


Inside Out

by Hitch66



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Ballie, Domestic Violence, Driscoll House, F/F, Romance, Slow Burn, Wentworth Correctional Centre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:08:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 168,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23227600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hitch66/pseuds/Hitch66
Summary: I don't want to give too much away, but Bea is on the inside and Debbie needs proper care and supervision. Is there someone on the outside who could help?
Relationships: Allie Novak/Bea Smith, Franky Doyle/Bridget Westfall
Comments: 935
Kudos: 324





	1. "Young and Innocent"

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of a new fic - just an idea I had. Let me know if you like it enough for me to carry on with it. Hitch ❤

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a young person needs a home and finds one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever look out for references to Hitchcock and his work.

God, she was nervous. She wiped her damp hands on her thighs for the third time and gripped the steering wheel. Come on. Move it. One step at a time. _For Debbie’s sake._ That got her moving. She stepped out of the car, swung her bag onto her shoulder and locked the door. Walking over to the reception she looked around. Despite the bright sunshine this place was unremittingly grim. Concrete, high walls, strings of barbed wire: it all had an oppressive effect. Imagining Debbie coming here gave her a queasy feeling. She had fully supported her desire to visit, but now she was here she wondered if she should have cautioned her against it or prepared her for this. She appeared to be coping well enough, but with a teenager it wasn’t always possible to be certain.

Signing in at reception she was given a locker key so that she could leave her belongings safely behind. She wasn't allowed to take anything with her into the visiting room. She sat on a hard plastic chair, waiting until a guard could show her in. The room smelled strongly of a falsely sweet cleaning product. Trying to breathe through her mouth, she watched the guards in their black and white uniforms. They were not exactly unfriendly, but nothing about them invited you to relax or share a smile with them. Every visitor here looked tense and pale. Maybe that was just the effect of the fluorescent tube lighting. There were no windows here and one of the lights was flickering nauseatingly in her peripheral vision.

An authoritative voice called her name, making her flinch. She got to her feet, eyeing the guard cautiously. Enormously tall with buzzed hair, his name badge read "Fletcher". Seeing her rise he looked down at his clipboard and read out three more names. Once they were all assembled, they were led into another room where a dog handler and her dog waited. 

"Owing to an increase in drug activity in the prison all visitors will need to submit to a search from a sniffer dog. If anyone does not consent to the search, I'm afraid you will not be allowed inside the visitors’ room," Fletcher announced.

 _Debbie hadn't mentioned anything about this._ Even though she knew that the dog would not smell anything on her, her heart still picked up anxiously. Force of habit, probably. Huh! _Habit_. She should be a comedian. She tried to breathe more evenly. A young fair-haired man gave a rueful grin. 

"I'll come back another day," he smirked. Officer Fletcher nodded without looking at him and marked something on his clipboard. Pressing a button on his radio he spoke to another officer. 

"Mr Holt will not be joining us today. Could I get an escort please?"

Once the young man had been led back the way they had come, the officer passed the clipboard to the visitors and they all signed to give their consent to the drug search. Tensing, she looked straight ahead as the dog sniffed her, only relaxing when the handler gave Officer Fletcher the nod and they were all allowed to file through to yet another row of hard plastic chairs. As she sat down, she couldn't help but remember the night a few weeks ago when Debbie had come home reeking of cannabis ...

"Ms Novak? The inmate is ready to see you now. Follow me."

⁂

“Debbie?” she called after the denim-clad flash that had scampered up the stairs. The girl slowed, then turned reluctantly. “Could I speak to you for a minute before you turn in?” Debbie tramped back down slowly, attitude in every step, the way only a teen could.

“I’m not late,” she protested with a flash of defiance in her eyes. Allie consulted the clock.

“True,” she said with a smile. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh.” She sounded a little deflated.

“Come and sit down for a moment. I think you’ll be pleased …” Now she looked curious, although, as she sat down, she still crossed her arms across her chest in a classic closed off pose. Allie wasn’t worried. Debbie had her troubles, true enough, more than most in fact, but in many ways, she was better adjusted than the majority of young people she had cared for. “I’ve found a teacher who can take you on for lessons. After school on Wednesdays. That won’t clash with anything else you have on, will it?” Debbie leant forward, her eyes lighting up.

“Really? No … track is on Tuesday, band on Friday … but, isn’t it too expensive?” she asked, clearly preparing herself for the worst.

“Debbie, I wouldn't even have mentioned it if it couldn't be managed from your care allowance," Allie explained. Debbie still had low expectations for her life. Hardly surprising, she supposed.

Allie wrinkled her nose at the smell she was becoming aware of. With a feeling of dread, she knew she had to tackle it right away. It was a shame that this moment of positivity would be ruined. 

"Debbie … I’m not accusing you of anything, but you're giving off the smell of weed," Allie began. With these troubled young people, it was important not to destroy the trust you had banked by jumping to conclusions. "Care to explain?" After a pause, Debbie spoke.

“I’ve not been smoking Allie, honest. Just … someone I was hanging out with was.” She sniffed at the shoulder of her jumper. Allie sighed internally. She could tell Debbie a very personal cautionary tale right now, but was that the right approach?

“And … what stopped you from joining in?” Allie asked. Debbie was quiet for a moment.

“My mum. She always says drugs are for mugs.” Allie smiled.

“She has a point,” Allie replied with a slight laugh. “So … the druggie? Is this someone I need to worry about?” Debbie shook her head, looking at the carpet.

“Nah. I hardly know him and … he was kind of a spud tonight, wanting me to do stuff …” Allie felt her scalp prickle with shock.

“What kind of stuff?” she asked, doing her best to disguise her alarm.

“It doesn’t matter,” Debbie shrugged. “I already decided to avoid him from now on.” Allie nodded.

“Okay. Good,” she said. As far as she could tell Debbie was being honest with her, she just hoped she wasn’t being deceived. “You’d better have a shower. Wash the smell out of your hair. Leave your clothes outside the bathroom and I’ll wash them for you.”

“Thanks Allie.”

“And ... after school on Wednesday I’ll pick you up straight from school and take you to your lesson.” That would give them plenty of contact time whilst in the car. The best time, Allie had found, for talking to teenagers: they couldn’t escape, but they didn’t have to look at you.

⁂

When Allie had first got the call about Debbie, she had been in two minds about whether to take her on or not. Not that she had anything against Debbie, or her circumstances. The opposite in fact: it was one of those situations she felt most strongly about. It was that she had only just completed a particularly tricky placement a few days before. She felt as though she was still catching her breath and had been looking forward to spending some time with her dad and the boys.

“When I tell you what happened, I think you’re gunna want to do it, Allie,” Michelle told her.

“Is it an emergency placement?” Allie asked. Short stay emergency foster placements were her specialty.

“Yep. The mother got arrested today … for killing the father no less, so the kid has no one.”

“ _Shit_ ,” Allie said, with feeling. “Poor kid. How old?”

“Sixteen. Right in your sweet spot Allie. You’d be perfect for this one.” There was a pause while Michelle waited for the inevitable reply.

“I’ll be right over.”

⁂

Allie unlocked the front door.

“Here we are Debbie. I know you’ve had a hell of a day, so I’ll just point out the main features and then you can decide what you want to do next. Here’s the lounge room ... the kitchen … come on up … this one’s mine … bathroom … here’s your room.” Allie preceded Debbie into the room. It was light and airy, painted a soothing sea green. “As you can see, you have your own en-suite …” Allie didn't point out that there was no lock on the door, or explain the very good reason why not. “I’ll leave you to make yourself comfortable. I’ll be downstairs if there’s anything you need, or if you’re hungry.” Allie looked at the girl sympathetically. She had had the rug of her life pulled from under her young feet, and her face was pale, her eyes huge. She had hardly said a word either at the Social Services offices or in the car on the way home. “I want you to know that you’re very welcome here Debbie …”

“When can I see my mum?” Allie felt tears prick at her eyes.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know. Perhaps we can find out tomorrow …”

“My dad … he beat her, you know,” Debbie blurted out, and suddenly she was sobbing in a way that made Allie’s heart ache. She wrapped her up in a hug. Teenagers. They acted like they were all grown up, but they were still children on the inside, and needed as much love as any child. Allie’s job description was to give a teen a place to stay, stability, calmness, clean clothes, good food … all that. But they needed a hefty dose of love too.

⁂

“Allie … there’s a cat trying to get through the window,” Debbie said with a note of amusement in her voice. Allie looked up from the toast she was buttering to see Nova standing in her usual pose, on her back legs with her front paws pressed against the glass of the patio doors, a beseeching look on her face.

“Oh, the most important member of the family, and you haven’t even met her yet!” Allie exclaimed. “Let her in will you?” Debbie slipped off her stool and slid the door open. Nova ran in with her tail raised in greeting and rubbed against Debbie’s ankles. Debbie bent down and gave her a fuss. “This is Nova,” Allie said proudly. “Officially the best cat in the world. You do like cats, don’t you?” Not that she really needed to ask, seeing Debbie stroking her. Nova was a real asset and had put in as much time with her foster kids as Allie had herself, and maybe to more effect.

“Sure. She’s a real beauty,” Debbie said. Nova purred more loudly.

“Well, she certainly likes you,” Allie responded. After chewing on her toast thoughtfully for a minute, Allie continued. “I have to speak to your school today. Explain what’s going on, and that you’ll need some time off, and maybe some special considerations when you do go back.” Debbie said nothing but continued to pet the cat. “Is there anything in particular you want me to say to them? Or want me _not_ to say to them?” Debbie sighed.

“Tell them I’ll be back next week.” Allie’s gut lurched. The stubborn kind, huh?

“Are you sure? That’s really soon,” Allie said, as neutrally as possible.

“It’s better for me to keep busy,” Debbie said. Allie knew that the therapist that Debbie would be sure to be assigned might have something to say about that. “Plus, I can’t afford to stuff up my exams.”

“Well, how about I ask for some work from your teachers so that you can keep up with your studies, and … we’ll worry about fixing a date when you’ve had a bit more time …”

“A bit more time’s not going to help,” Debbie butted in hotly. “My dad’s dead. My mum’s in prison. I just have to suck it up … the sooner the better …” Her words were tough, but the look on her face told a different story. Allie dropped the topic.

“What else do you need today Debbie?” she asked. “I can leave you in peace, or keep you company, or we can go somewhere …” Debbie stood up, brushing her hands on her jeans, looking uncertain. “Are there any practicalities that need sorting out? Clothes? Toiletries? What’s your priority for the day?”

“I need to know where Mum is. If she’s okay. When I can see her …” Debbie stuffed her hands into her back pockets self-consciously. “And Dad. I … I guess I need to think about the funeral,” she said, the tears beginning now. “There’s no one else to do it …” Allie was momentarily taken aback that Debbie would think that such a task would fall to her.

“No, Debbie. No one expects that of you.” Allie stepped up to her, tentatively offering a hug. Debbie sagged against her and sobbed. “Don’t worry. I'll sort all that with Social Services. And I’ll find out about contacting your mum. I’m sure she wants to hear from you just as badly.” Allie held her and rocked her for long minutes until the tide of tears began to subside. And then she held her some more, until Nova mewed loudly, making them both laugh. They drew apart. “Someone wants their breakfast,” Allie commented.

“And my phone,” Debbie said, wiping her face. “It got smashed when … when Mum was arrested, and … it would really help if I could talk to my friends.”

“Of course. So, a new phone,” Allie said with a smile. Debbie looked uneasy.

“I have a few dollars, but not enough for a phone,” she confessed.

“Don’t be silly. I couldn’t cope without my phone, and I don’t expect you to either. Anything you would usually have asked your mum or dad for, I’m here to provide.” Allie told her. “Within reason, obviously.”

“So, no diamond encrusted jewellery …” Debbie said with a grin.

“Exactly. And, before you ask, no you can’t get a tattoo …” Debbie laughed. Allie’s heart did a little dance.

⁂

Allie glanced sideways at Debbie. She wanted to ask how the session with the therapist had gone, but Debbie seemed preoccupied with her thoughts, so she let her be and drove towards home.

“Allie?” Debbie asked after a while.

“Yes?”

“When I visited Mum yesterday, she asked if … you would go and visit her.”

“ _Me? Why?_ ” Allie asked, taken aback. Debbie shrugged.

“She said she just wants to meet you,” Debbie replied, looking out of the side window. “But probably she wants to ask you about me. Make sure I’m doing my homework and stuff,” she added apologetically. _More likely she wants to check if I’m looking after you properly_ , Allie thought. And she could hardly blame her. Which mother wouldn’t want to check up on the person looking after her child?

“I’m not sure …” Allie hedged, trying to figure out what would be appropriate. And what would be in Debbie’s best interests.

“Yeah, well. If you decide to, I have a spare request form,” Debbie replied coolly, turning on the radio and effectively ending the conversation.

⁂

"How'd it go?" Allie asked as Debbie swung her trumpet case into the back of the car. 

"Really good," Debbie said, throwing herself into the passenger seat. "I learned loads already." Allie pulled out into traffic feeling pleased with herself for setting up these lessons for Debbie. She had had the trumpet on loan from school for a couple of years, but had never had any proper lessons before, managing to teach herself from online tutorials and from attending the school's swing band. "The valves need cleaning and oiling," Debbie commented, looking at Allie meaningfully. Allie looked back. 

"You know how to do that, right?" she asked uneasily. 

"Not really. Mum always did it. Will you help me figure it out?" Allie laughed. 

"I guess so. What else is YouTube for?"

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Allie had the feeling that there was more to come. 

"Do you want me to move to a new foster placement?" Debbie finally asked. 

" _What_? No, of course not. What would make you think that?" Debbie shrugged, not looking at her. 

"Just … Michelle said you usually do short-term emergency placements. And I'm not that anymore." Allie coloured up. It was true. She didn't usually have anyone live with her for this long. But Debbie was different somehow. Somehow Allie wasn't ready to let her go. Somehow Allie felt that she was the one who would help her through this.

"Do you want to move placements?" Allie asked, struggling to watch both the road and Debbie's face. 

"No. But it's not just down to me …"

"Listen. I'm happy for you to stay with me for as long as you want. We get along pretty well don't we?" Debbie nodded. 

"Then … you need to visit my mum." This time Debbie did look at her and Allie felt terrible, having put off making a decision about the visit for a couple of weeks. Allie nodded slowly. 

"Okay," she said faintly, alarmed by the prospect. Her heart thundered. For Debbie: she would have to visit Wentworth Prison and get the seal of approval from the formidable Bea Smith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious how Debbie's fate might have been different if someone had *actually* been looking out for her when Bea got sent to Wentworth.


	2. "The Trouble with Harry"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a mother needs a family and finds one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all. Thanks for your feedback on chapter 1. Here's chapter 2.

“What’s up your arse?” Franky asked with her trademark grin.

“Nothin’,” Bea replied, hunching forward in her chair and scoring her fingernail mindlessly against the table top.

“Can’t fool me, Red. Something’s bugging you. Spill it.” Bea sighed. When Franky wanted something from you she could be very insistent.

“Debbie’s foster mother is visiting this arvo …” she began.

“Well, that’s good right? You’ve been wanting to meet her for weeks.”

“Yeah,” Bea replied in a flat tone, wondering if her desperate desire to cancel the visit made her, not just a coward, but the worst kind of indecisive idiot.

“But now you’re worried that she’s gunna think you're a _bad mother_ , right?” Bea clenched her jaw tight. _Bad mother_. That pressed all her buttons. Franky might come across as a dangerously over-sexed, couldn't care less hard case, but underneath all that she could be pretty perceptive. 

“Well, what _should_ she think?" Bea shot back. "I’m the woman who was stupid enough to leave her daughter all alone. No parents, no home, nothing.”

“You did what you had to do. And if she’s got an ounce of sense, she’s gunna see that. Besides, why should you care? It’s not what she thinks of _you_ that matters … it’s what she thinks of little Deb.”

Bea nodded slowly. Franky was right. It was something she was learning on the inside. Outside of your family, it didn’t matter if people liked you, so long as they respected you. And those were two things she was gaining in here: a family, and respect.

When she was first brought to Wentworth, on remand for Harry’s murder, she was in shock. In the van on the way her head was full of the sound of Debbie’s screams as she was dragged away by the police. And now all that remained of that first day were scattered memories: her shock and revulsion when the prisoner in the van with her gave the screw a gobby for some smokes; losing it in intake when Officer Jackson asked her to name her next of kin; the sedative she was administered blurring everything, but cruelly leaving behind the image of Harry, taped to the steering wheel, breathing his last.

She had been a fool. If only she had left Harry years ago when the abuse first started. Instead she had stayed, trying to keep the family together, until, eventually, she was so beaten down and messed up that she could see no way out for herself or Debbie. No way out but to get rid of Harry. She had sent Debbie to a friend’s and tried to make it look like suicide, but the tape marks around his wrists gave it away and, as ever, the spouse was the police’s main suspect.

So here she was on the inside, while Debbie was out there, living with a stranger, a situation Bea could no longer bear. Even though Debbie was insistent that she liked her foster carer and that she was good to her, Bea couldn’t rest without seeing it for herself. You heard about terrible things happening to kids in care after all, and Debbie had been through enough already. Bea had to be sure.

Bea gave Franky a shaky smile and a slight nod of gratitude. Just then Boomer sped onto the unit.

“That bitch from C block finally paid up,” she exulted, waving a packet of Monte Carlos. “Wanna biccy, Franky? Bea?” 

“Thanks, Booms,” Bea said, and meant it. The first week in prison had been a rollercoaster, but now she was solid with the women on her unit. They needed each other and they stuck together.

⁂

Her first introduction to the unit had been to discover that the room that was supposed to be hers was occupied by Franky and Kim, engaged in what could only be termed a non-PG activity. Being exposed to the more intimate sides of people’s lives, in the showers, the dunnies, on the unit, was just the first of many things she had to get a handle on now she was inside. Most intrusive was the constant noise, which was wearing, then annoying, and finally infuriating. Shouting, door slamming, furniture throwing, coughing, snoring… it was unending, until Bea learned to filter it out.

Then there was the fitting in and learning the ropes. Don’t take anything from someone else’s room. Never press the panic button. Never judge another woman’s situation. Learn the best way to deal with each type of woman: the junkie, the aggressor, the flake, the manipulator. Next, pick up the lingo: _screws_ , not officers, _the_ _slot_ , not solitary. And the big, unwritten rule. _Don’t lag. Never, ever lag._ Luckily, Bea had a good instinct for self preservation - granted by years of living with Harry, no doubt. Being on remand she could have kept wearing her own clothes, but instinct told her it was better to wear the uniform and blend in as much as possible.

But there were times during those early days when Bea found herself cornered and placed in a position where there was no good option. Bad situation number one was when Franky forced her to receive drugs from a bogus visitor. Bea would never have got involved with something like that, but Franky, like lots of the women in here, could sniff out a vulnerability in a heartbeat. _Debbie_. Franky had the power to prevent her from phoning her daughter and Bea just couldn't leave Debbie wondering why she hadn't called. So she did it. Got caught of course. Mrs Jackson was no fool. But Bea had the sense not to lag and that earned her the respect of the women in her unit, Franky included.

Bad situation number two came along when Jacs Holt was released from the slot. Holt was determined to show Franky who was top dog and chose Bea as the "teachable moment". Bea decided she would submit, pursuing her policy of blending in. But Jacs had to push it just that little bit too far. Bea had seen _and_ _taken_ worse, but something about the way Jacs kept on pushing reminded her of Harry. She had ruined Debbie’s life and her own to stop him. And now it seemed that since she had killed him she had lost all tolerance for just taking it. When she put Jacs in her place she simultaneously gained an enemy and the loyalty of her new prison family.

During the riot that followed on from this confrontation, Bea's unit kept her safe by leaving her to babysit Doreen's charge, Kaiya. Bea could hear the whole prison erupting in violence but didn't leave the little girl for a second, even when she wanted her teddy fetching. When the riot was over Mrs Jackson was discovered dead in a pool of blood and the police had so far been unable to discover who was responsible, though the screws clearly suspected Holt and her heavies.

Erica Davidson replaced Mrs Jackson as governor, much to Franky's delight, and the balance of power shifted away from Jacs towards Franky and her crew. Jacs was still claiming the top dog slot and that signifier of power, the laundry steam-press, but was under such intense scrutiny from the screws that she was unable to keep Franky and her girls from consolidating their influence amongst the women. Franky could be fierce and violent, but she didn't have the cruelty of Holt, and the women knew this. Bea supposed that now she must count herself as a member of the crew but, whilst Franky demanded her loyalty, she didn't seem to expect her to get involved in her drug business or her beef with Jacs. For now, at least. 

⁂

Bea chewed her biscuit and tried not to think about the upcoming visit. The first time Debbie had visited she had been nervous too. She had wondered if her daughter would look at her differently after what she'd done. Could she even meet Debbie's eye, having killed Harry? He was a total bastard and a waste of space, but he had been Debbie's father. It had to change everything, didn't it? And was it even fair to ask her to come here? Prison was no place for a child. Doreen had finally convinced her that Debbie needed to see her, needed to see that Bea was still her mother and had not given up that role despite being in prison. 

When Bea walked into the visitors room and saw Debbie sitting there, she was almost afraid to touch her. Debbie looked just the same as always, even down to those familiar jeans and that ratty jumper. But what if she didn't feel the same about Bea? Maybe she wouldn't want to hug her now. But Bea was so happy to see her that she pushed her fears aside. Debbie stood up as she approached, looking as nervous as Bea felt.

"Can we …" she asked uncertainly. Bea nodded.

“Yeah, yeah. Come here.” She drew her into her arms. The sense of relief was immense. To hold her child again and know that she was safe even if just for this short time was a balm that almost undid everything she had gone through in the past weeks. Debbie’s slight frame trembled as she sobbed quietly into her mother’s ear for a moment. They sat down and smiled into each other's faces and Bea knew that nothing had changed. Her little girl still loved her and relied upon her. Debbie rambled on about not knowing if she could bring anything in for Bea. Bea just smiled until she thought her face would split.

“I’ve got everything I need.”

An hour was all they had and Bea had an agenda to get through. Firstly, to find out everything she could about how Debbie was managing without her, and secondly to make sure that she understood that Bea was fine and that she didn’t need to worry about her.

“So … how are you? How’s things at … home?”

“I’m fine.” For a minute it seemed like Debbie would leave it there. “It’s good. Really,” she added when Bea continued to scrutinise her face. “I have a nice bedroom and my own bathroom. I just really miss you Mum.”

“Oh, I miss you too sweetheart,” Bea told her, squeezing her hands. “And how’s school?”

“Fine. Allie is taking me and picking me up every day so that I don’t have to get the bus.” Debbie was looking down as she said this and Bea surmised that she felt awkward talking to Bea about this new mother figure.

“Allie. Your foster carer. What’s she like? You get on okay with her?” Bea asked with one long breath. Debbie shrugged.

“Sure. She’s kind. Not stern or anything …” Debbie trailed off.

“Are there other kids there?”

“No. Just me and Allie. And Nova. That’s the cat.” Debbie smiled shyly. Bea’s heart thumped. Debbie had always wanted a pet but Harry would never allow it. And now, although she was pleased Debbie finally got to experience living with an animal, she felt uncomfortable that it was someone else, some stranger, who had made that dream happen for her daughter.

“A cat, huh?” she said with a smile. “That’s great.” Bea swallowed heavily. “I’m sorry.” Debbie looked at her questioningly. “For what I did. I … I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Bea closed her eyes against the memories. 

_The rasp of the tape as she pulled it off the roll._

"I couldn't see another way out …"

_The stink of the exhaust fumes._

“It’s okay mum. I get it."

 _The metallic clang as she closed the garage door on him and walked away._

"He was getting worse," Debbie continued, "and … recently I … Recently _neither_ of us were safe from him.” Bea nodded, averting her eyes and pursing her lips to try and contain her emotions. No one knew about the sense of satisfaction she got that day, knowing that he could never hurt her again, knowing that he could never make good on his promise. She could never tell anyone, Debbie least of all. 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t find a better way. It was stupid … and now I’m in here, and you’re out there and … you’ve come here to visit me in this horrible place. You don’t have to come, you know Deb. We can write and talk on the phone.” Bea gave her an imploring look. She would save her this experience if he could.

“It’s fine, Mum. I wanted to come.”

“How did you get here?”

“On the bus.” Bea looked at her steadily.

“Does your foster carer know you’re here?” she asked. Debbie nodded and then smiled.

“She was the one who organised the paperwork and everything. She wanted to drive me, but … I don’t know … I felt like I wanted to do this on my own.” Bea smiled tearfully.

“You don’t have to grow up all of a sudden Deb, just because I’m not there to baby you. If … _Allie_ wants to help you, then, for God’s sake, let her. Be a child for a little longer. While you still can.”

“Yeah, well. I am going to grow up, Mum.” Debbie didn’t say, _While you’re in prison_ or _And you're going to miss it_ , but Bea heard it anyway and closed her eyes against the wave of grief.

“I know. Just … it’s going to be difficult for me to help you from in here, so, take whatever help’s on offer …”

“It’s not the same, Mum. I miss the things we used to do together. I miss your cooking. I even miss you nagging me.” Bea huffed out a laugh.

“Doesn’t Allie nag you then?” she asked with a smile.

“Not yet. But we are kind of new …” Bea leant forwards.

“Is her cooking really terrible?” she asked conspiratorially. Debbie laughed and shook her head.

“It’s just … not the same.” They were silent for a moment. “What’s the food like in here?”

“Grim,” Bea replied, without thinking. Seeing Debbie’s face drop, she smiled and attempted to brush it off. “It’s fine, really. Just a bit unimaginative.” Debbie nodded. “But I’m in with a good bunch of women. There’s six of us in our unit: Franky, Kim, Liz, Doreen, Boomer and me …”

“ _Boomer?”_

“Don’t ask … We each have our own room and share a communal area with a couch, telly, kettle … all that, so don’t go thinking it’s like in the movies. It’s really not that bad.” Debbie nodded again, willing to be convinced. “And we get to go outside in the yard. And we get visits.” She smiled at Debbie, so happy to be able to look at her lovely face, despite where they were.

“And your lawyer? Have you had a visit from him or her yet?”

“Yeah. I qualify for legal assistance, so they appointed someone to my case. He came in last week.” 

“What did he say Mum? Is there something they can do?” Bea looked away. She had found the meeting discouraging and the lawyer dismissive, but she couldn’t lay that on Debbie.

“It’s early days sweetheart …”

“They need to know what Dad did to you. That’s got to count for something …” she said, almost desperately. Bea nodded.

“Yeah. I’m sure you’re right. It’ll all take time. The trial is probably months away.” Debbie continued to gaze hopefully into her face. “Let me worry about that,” Bea said, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “You should only be worrying about school … and boys …”

“ _Mu-uum,”_ Debbie said in a horrified tone, rolling her eyes to make Bea laugh.

“And selfies, and friends, and music …”

“Talking about music, Allie has arranged for me to get some trumpet lessons, at last!” Debbie was lit up now and Bea rejoiced for her. Debbie had always responded to music, even as a baby, and as soon as she could articulate what she wanted, had longed to play an instrument. Harry would have no truck with it, hating the idea of noise in the house. When Debbie had learned that she could borrow an instrument from school, Bea had given her permission, promising to make it right with her dad. It was supposed to be a flute or a clarinet, but the only instrument left was a trumpet. The night Debbie brought it home Bea copped a severe beating. But it was worth it. Debbie could only practice when Harry wasn’t around and there was never any money for lessons, but she fell in love with playing and Bea didn’t regret a second of the pain, worry and fear that trumpet had caused.

“That’s great, Deb! There’ll be no stopping you now …”

Too soon their hour was up and Bea gripped Debbie tight once more, breathing in her scent, hoping it would last her until the next visit.

“I’ll call you,” Bea promised. “Oh, and Debbie … will you ask Allie if she’ll come and visit me?” Debbie looked shocked.

“What? Why?” Bea shrugged, doing her best to play it down.

“Just to set my mind at rest. That you’re being looked after …” Debbie looked doubtful. “Please.” Debbie’s shoulders fell in defeat.

“I’ll ask her, but I don’t know …” Bea gave her a bright smile.

“That’s all I ask.”

⁂

"Smith! You have a visitor," Miss Miles yelled from the door. Bea got to her feet, tugging her hoodie straight, wondering about her hair, knowing it was too late to fix it. Franky made a kissy face at her. 

"Go get her Red!" she said with a leer. Bea gave her a withering look as she walked away. 

"You'll be right, Bea," Liz commented as she passed her, giving her arm a quick squeeze. Bea nodded uncertainly, grateful for the comment but not reassured. What if Allie Novak was some kind of super mum? Where would that leave her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It always really bugged me that Bea left Kaiya unsupervised, even for a moment, during a prison riot. She's a mother. She would not have done that. How might things have been different if Bea was not suspected of Mrs Jackson's murder?


	3. "Woman to Woman"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which strangers meet and an alliance is forged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't say I'm happy with it but here is Chapter 3. I hope that it at least ticks some of your boxes. Hitch x

Allie knew what Bea Smith looked like. She had seen her picture in the newspapers and on the TV news. But most of all she knew her from the photograph on Debbie’s bedside table. She had gone shopping with Debbie to choose a frame for that picture, which showed Debbie with her mum, curly heads pressed together, identical smiles illuminating their faces. But somehow Allie still wasn’t prepared when she finally saw her in the flesh.

It wasn’t that she didn’t look like her photograph. She did. And yet ... When Allie thought about it, she decided that, in her mind, she must have elevated Bea Smith to the status of some kind of superhuman. Debbie had been telling her bits and pieces about her mum over the weeks and, in every telling, she was so much more than the battered wife who took whatever her husband meted out. More, even, than the tiger mother who would do anything to protect her child. Allie had clearly allowed Debbie’s feelings about her mother to affect her more than she had realised, because, although Bea Smith was, at first glance, just a medium build woman in badly fitting prison-issue tracky dacks, the sight of her still made Allie’s heart twist in her chest in an all too recognisable way. 

As Allie walked over to her she did her best to push her reaction to one side. She was here at Bea’s request. She was here as Debbie’s foster mother. She was an experienced professional, she reminded herself, not some star-struck groupie. Still, Bea was undeniably striking, with that mane of red hair, sculpted lips and defined jaw. And when Bea looked up and met her eyes, before flicking her gaze away, Allie was surprised at the rush of sympathy that ran through her as she recognised her trepidation. She had assumed that Bea Smith needed to vet her, to make sure she was good enough to look after Debbie, but was there some part of her that feared Allie’s judgement?

⁂

Bea diverted her eyes. That couldn’t be her, could it? Weren’t foster mothers solid maternal types? Weren’t they, above all, _older?_ The young woman who was walking towards her with a look of recognition on her face was tall and slim, glamorous, in a professional way, and, confounding Bea’s expectations, young. Very young. Old enough to look after, say, a hamster, but not old enough to look after a teenager going through the most difficult part of her life. To Bea she appeared enviably self-possessed in her tailored black trousers and off-white tie-neck blouse, her blonde hair sleekly arranged against her head. A head that was now cocked questioningly on one side. Bea scrambled to her feet.

“Mrs Smith,” the young blonde said, holding out her right hand. “I’m Allie Novak.” Bea raised her eyes and met her gaze briefly. Her startlingly blue eyes were full of humour. _Was she laughing at her?_ Bea looked away and slipped her cold hand into Allie Novak’s warm one for a perfunctory shake. She sat down quickly, hoping to conceal her agitation, and the other woman followed suit. Bea knew she should say something. After all, she was the one who had requested the visit. But for the moment her voice had defected, and neither could she make herself meet that amused gaze again. Imprisoning her hands beneath her thighs she interrogated the tabletop. Please say something, she begged silently, but the other woman seemed in no hurry to begin, casting her eyes around the room, taking it all in.

Bea took the opportunity to steal another look at her whilst she was occupied. Her hands were soft, Bea already knew that, but now she could see that they were perfectly manicured and well cared for, with long, shapely fingers. She darted a look at her face. Not only was Allie Novak beautiful, but she was enviably made up in that barely there, totally natural way that was almost invisible. Her generous lips were a rosy shade of pink. Was that their natural colour? Bea couldn’t decide. She groaned internally to think how she looked in comparison: skin sallow, shadows under her eyes, hands dry and scaly from her work in the laundry. And this terrible uniform. She felt ashamed of the way she looked, and then annoyed with herself for feeling ashamed. She was in prison for God’s sake. What she looked like hardly mattered. She sat up straighter.

By the time Bea’s eyes made it past the straight nose and the full cheeks to her eyes, that extraordinary blue gaze was back on her again. Bea startled to be caught staring, but this time the woman’s amused scrutiny was shot through with compassion. Bea looked away in confusion.

“It’s okay, I get it,” her visitor told her in a teasing tone. “I’m guessing I’m not what you expected, but I want to reassure you that I’m well qualified to be looking after Debbie.” She waited a beat, but Bea was still recovering herself. “Not as well qualified as you, obviously, but she’s a great kid and no trouble.” _Diplomatic_. Bea resisted the smile that tugged at her lips. Was she to be the target of a charm offensive? Finally managing to compose herself a little, she swallowed and found her voice, attempting to answer in kind.

“No trouble? Are we talking about the same Debbie Smith?”

⁂

Allie gave out a surprised huff of laughter. Suddenly, this nervous woman who stared and then couldn’t meet her eye, who startled and yet arrested her attention, had found her voice. And what a voice. Pitched low in both tone and volume, Allie savoured it as an unearned privilege, coveting every sound. She leaned forward a little, forearms on the table, to be sure she would not miss whatever came next. She thought about what Bea had said and gave a shrug, aiming for insouciant.

“Comparatively …” she said, copying Bea’s deadpan delivery. Bea nodded thoughtfully; her lips compressed. Allie felt a burst of happiness at the idea that maybe, just maybe, she was suppressing a smile. She glanced up and noticed an unmistakable sheen of amusement lighting up Bea’s dark brown eyes. Allie’s heart thudded as her gaze was returned until, abruptly, Bea looked away, shifting uneasily in her chair and rubbing her left forearm. _Wow_ . _So cagey._ Her arm. Allie sobered herself, remembering she was not here to flirt but to … what? Reassure? Be appraised? Breathing out down her nose, she clasped her hands together.

“So. What can I do for you Mrs Smith?” Allie asked, professional mask firmly back in place. Bea was silent for a moment, leaning forward on the table, almost mirroring Allie’s pose.

“I suppose I need to be sure,” she began gruffly, hesitantly. “Debbie … she talks to me on the phone, and it’s great to hear her voice, but it’s all superficial stuff … and when she comes in here … it’s hard to talk openly. She tells me some things, but I feel like there’s plenty she’s not telling me.” She swallowed audibly. “I just need to know she’s okay. _Really_ okay. I …” she sighed in frustration. “It sounds like I’m asking you to spy on her, and that’s not it. I trust her, and I don’t expect you to break any confidences, but if there’s anything you think you can tell me I … well, I would appreciate it.” During this speech Allie dropped her gaze to the table, trying to make it easier for Bea to say what she needed to. Listening to the gravelly contralto hitch and catch on certain words it was obvious that Bea was sincerely worried for her daughter, and when Bea added, “I feel so powerless in here,” Allie felt her heart leap up in sympathy. But her responsibility to Debbie had to override her natural impulse to cooperate.

“I’d like to help, but I can’t break Debbie’s trust. You do understand, don’t you?” Allie replied, praying Bea wouldn’t be offended. “Creating and maintaining trust is a massive deal in fostering …” Bea was nodding.

“I get it. Sorry … I shouldn’t have asked,” Bea sputtered as a deep blush suffused her cheeks. Allie’s conscience was plundered again and before she had time to censor herself, she found herself conceding … something.

“But I can ask her and … if she agrees I can, you know, come again next week …” Allie felt herself blushing now, and wondered at her eagerness to help this stranger.

"I couldn't ask you to do that. I'm sure you have better things …"

"If it helps you, it helps Debbie, which is kind of my job right now," Allie replied, putting off examining her motives until later. "My work is flexible."

"That's …" Bea began. "It must be pretty shocking. Coming to a place like this. Visiting someone like me."

"Someone like you?"

“A murderer." Bea spoke it flatly and met her eyes fearlessly. Allie scoffed. For a moment she had forgotten why Bea was in here and, having met her, the word “murderer” seemed ridiculous.

"You won't be surprised to hear that Debbie has talked to me about her dad and how he treated you. I know a little bit of what he did." Bea's lips were twisting and suddenly she looked very pale, but Allie felt bound to say it. "I know why your left arm still bothers you. It's the one that he shattered with a cast iron pan whilst trying to get at Debbie when she was late home one night." Bea threw her head back with a faint sound of exasperation. Her gaze dodged from one side to the other as if seeking an escape from that memory, whilst her right hand unconsciously rubbed at her left forearm. Allie looked away to give her the moment. She really shouldn’t be annoyed, she reflected. Debbie needed to talk to someone, and Allie was the natural recipient for her feelings of guilt, powerlessness and sorrow. “I also know about the bottle attack … Debbie has a very vivid memory of that, understandably.” Bea’s lips had now twisted up into a humourless grin. It looked so pained that Allie immediately stopped talking. Shaking her head regretfully she continued. “Sorry. All I mean to say is … that you’re not a murderer. You did what you did in self-defence, or in defence of Debbie, and I’m sure all that will come out at your trial …”

“Hah!” Bea laughed contemptuously. “You clearly haven’t met my lawyer.” And she dropped her face forward, pushing the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. Allie’s hairs all pricked on end at this reaction.

“What do you mean? He’s going for self-defence, isn’t he? Or diminished responsibility?” Bea took her hands away from her face and fixed Allie with a sardonic look. She shook her head.

“No. He reckons I should plead guilty to murder. _Premeditation_ , you see.” Allie was horrified. More than anything, it was the triumphant look on Bea’s face that scared her. Did she think she _deserved_ to be in here? “Any evidence of abuse will _maybe_ give me a reduced sentence.”

“But … “ Allie’s mind rebelled. _“You can’t serve a long sentence. Debbie needs you,”_ she said angrily. Bea nodded sadly. 

"That's why I'm furious at myself." But she didn't look furious, she looked defeated. "I killed him. I … I got so _mixed_ _up_ towards the end. It's all much clearer now. I should have found a better way." 

"Maybe I can help."

⁂

She had killed a man. No one could help her. What was done was done and couldn't be undone. Bea looked at this strange woman in surprise. A stranger who wanted to help her. Who knew more about her than was entirely comfortable. Who put Debbie before everything else. How was she even real? Bea examined those peculiarly blue eyes in puzzlement. Still no pity. All she could read there was sympathy, the teasing humour having evaporated as the conversation had deepened. Bea sighed and made a half-hearted "go on then" gesture.

"I have contacts in Social Services, and they know lawyers. Some of those lawyers, really good ones, take on cases for free sometimes … if they think it's a deserving cause." Bea scoffed. 

"Is that what I am? A deserving cause?" she asked, the idea making her stomach lurch nauseatingly.

"Yes," she replied, so firmly Bea was taken aback. "Deserving of proper representation if nothing else." Bea must have looked unconvinced because her next words were, "Even if you find _yourself_ undeserving, Debbie deserves _everything_." Bea sat up in her chair. That was inarguable at any rate. 

"What do you suggest?" she asked, the tide of her resistance beginning to ebb. 

"Let me look into it. See if I can find someone who's interested. It's a high-profile case and it will surely play into someone’s agenda for justice for women,” Allie said in a reasonable tone.

“I don’t want to be the poster girl for battered wives,” Bea protested angrily.

“But neither do you want to spend twenty years in this place,” Allie replied, unperturbed by what Bea recognised as her unreasonable attitude. She sighed.

“Okay then,” she replied. Allie did a poor job of concealing her satisfaction with this concession and Bea was left with the feeling that she had had her pocket picked while her back was turned.

⁂

“So, in other news Debbie aced her history test …” Allie began, knowing that Debbie would not object to that piece of information being passed on. It seemed wise to change the subject before Bea could change her mind. Bea gave a faintly knowing smile.

“Good. She’s doing her homework then? Watch her with chemistry … she sometimes struggles with that and tries to avoid it if she can.” Allie nodded. “And I hope she’s pulling her weight around the house. Don’t let her fool you. She knows how to cook and do laundry,” Bea said, emphasising her point by jabbing her finger into the tabletop.

“Yeah, I’ve got her ironing her school uniform and emptying the dishwasher. I don’t want to give her too many chores. I’d rather she spent her time studying and with her friends. Plus, she’s got track and music practice to fit in …” Bea’s face suddenly split into an enormous smile, making Allie’s stomach swoop as though she was riding a rollercoaster.

“Debbie told me about the music lessons. Thank you _so much_ for organising that." Bea uttered these words with an intensity that made Allie's heart stutter and catch. "Harry always hated that trumpet and said lessons would be a waste of money.” Feeling her eyes glaze with emotion, Allie couldn’t stop a pleased smile from taking over her face.

“She’s coming along great. She’s practising a piece called “Mexican Chill Out”. I tell you; I’m humming it everywhere. In the shower, in the car. It’s starting to sound really good.” Allie hummed a bit of the tune to give her an idea, amused when Bea looked around self-consciously. "Catchy, huh?" She hummed a bit more, mimicking a trumpet sound and Debbie's trumpet-playing face, just to see Bea squirm, which she did, until finally she burst out laughing, shaking her head at Allie's antics. Allie grinned back at her, satisfied. Was there any better feeling in the world than making a beautiful woman laugh?

_Oh shit._

⁂

Allie’s smile was infectious. Her cheeks had pinked up and the way her eyes glittered put Bea in mind of sunlight on a tropical sea. Her face was stiff from smiling. Her cheek muscles ached and would not obey her instructions. She felt strangely light. Giddy. Like she usually only did with Debbie. This woman was a clown, she realised. The serious professional she had appeared to be when she had entered the room had disappeared, had been some kind of disguise.

"What got you into fostering?" she asked. Allie's eyes clouded over, and Bea silently cursed herself for dousing her happiness and turning the electric blue to a stormy grey; if only she could unask that question and resurrect the joyful Allie of a moment ago.

"Nothing good …" she ventured. Bea could see that Allie’s smile was slipping. The part that really got to Bea, though, was the way Allie tried to pretend that the question didn’t bother her. It was the counterfeit nonchalance on her face that caused Bea’s stomach to dance like a fish caught on a line. It was a mask that she might have worn herself once or twice, at the hospital or in front of a concerned neighbour.

"You don't have to answer that …" she put in hastily. Allie waved a hand dismissively. 

"It's okay," she interrupted, blinking away her anguish. "Lots of things really. My mum died when I was thirteen, so I guess I missed out on a lot of mothering myself. I have _three_ younger brothers," Allie held up three fingers to emphasise this point, rolling her eyes, "and I did my best to fulfill the mother role for them. So when the opportunity to foster came along, I knew I could do it and that …" Allie locked eyes with her but underneath the tropical blue, Bea could see the pain and fear she was attempting to smuggle out of sight. "And that, in a weird way, I could maybe help someone else … a bit like I was helped once when I was younger and … in a difficult place." This last was spoken faintly but intently, and Bea didn't know what she meant and could only take the statement as a forging of trust between them. It was like the proverbial iceberg: more was left untold than told. But looking at her face, Bea couldn’t ask for any more, given what saying that much had clearly cost her. Bea just nodded her head rapidly. She had an impulse to reach out and grab her hand, to comfort her. She quashed it.

"Time's up, ladies," Mr Jackson boomed.

Bea watched Allie's face drop for a split second, before she grinned and got to her feet. Bea stood and braced herself in case Allie went in for a hug: she seemed like a hugger. But Allie just looked at her face thoughtfully for a long moment. 

"Nice to meet you Bea Smith. I'll be in touch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Easter everyone. Take care, stay safe. Please comment if you can - it might sound weird, but I worry about you lot, out there doing your best to avoid the virus. To those of you who are healthcare workers or key workers THANK YOU for putting yourselves and your families at risk to help your fellow citizens.


	4. "Forbidden Territory"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an attraction is recognised and a rescue is instigated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I hope you are all well. Here's the next chapter.

Allie hummed to herself and glanced at the time. She was early. Very early. The traffic had been unexpectedly light, she told herself. But if she interrogated her conscience, she knew the real reason that she was so early was that she had been looking forward to seeing Bea all week. This was bad: a crush on her foster child’s mother. That had to be unethical. Also, having her whole week revolve around a single hour-long meeting couldn’t be healthy. Still, a crush was just a crush, and as long as it didn’t go any further, what was the harm? Anyway, maybe it would fade with time. She scoffed. Who was she trying to fool?

The minute she had left the prison last week her brain had begun working on ways to improve life for Bea. Admittedly, as she was in prison, there was a limit to what could be done, but Allie knew that even something small would help Bea enormously given her current situation. So, as soon as she got Debbie home from school, she asked her if it would be okay for her to share some agreed information with her mother. Debbie looked shocked to even be consulted and agreed straightaway. Allie told her that if there was ever anything she didn’t want her to discuss with Bea she should just say so. As soon as that was decided Allie requested a second visit with Bea, knowing that next time she would be able to satisfy her need to know exactly how her daughter was doing.

Next came the part that Allie considered the most vital: getting Bea a lawyer who would fight for her. And not require payment. Allie put all her work on a back burner, hit the telephone and shamelessly exploited every contact she could think of until someone mentioned Josephine Pym. Looking her up online Allie found that Ms Pym had a reputation as a crusader for women’s rights and had already fought two cases in which a woman had defended herself against an abusive spouse. 

Telephoning Ms Pym's practice just allowed her to "enjoy" several conversations with an obstructive assistant who insisted that Ms Pym could not take on any more cases at the moment. Eventually Allie resorted to loitering outside the law office for several hours, armed with a folder of news stories about Bea's case. When the woman finally appeared, Allie thrust the folder into her hand before she could object. When Ms Pym looked at her in surprise Allie just told her, "I think you'll be interested in this case." Meeting her eyes, she laid it out baldly. "She needs your help." Sensing some kind of concession in the lawyer's eyes, Allie smiled. "My number's in the file," she said and walked away. 

The unorthodox approach worked. The lawyer called her back a few hours later. Allie took the call up to her bedroom and explained why she thought Bea needed and deserved proper representation. 

"What's your interest in this case, Ms Novak?" Ms Pym asked after a long pause. Allie felt herself blush. _What was her interest?_

"I … I'm fostering Bea's daughter," she explained. "Debbie's a great kid. She's had a tough time of it. She deserves a normal life, and for that she needs her mother back." Allie had spoken as convincingly as she was able, but she could sense Ms Pym's scepticism. 

"You speak a lot about what people deserve, Ms Novak, but in my experience the criminal justice system doesn't work that way. It's not about Mrs Smith deserving her freedom, or about Mr Smith perhaps deserving what he got. It's about what can be proven; what can be suggested; and what a jury can be convinced of." The woman spoke confidently. Allie could easily imagine her in the courtroom. She would do wonders for Bea's chances. She braced herself for a rejection, wondering what she could say that might change her mind. "Having said that, I am interested in the case. I'm prepared to meet with Mrs Smith in the first instance. If I find her credible …" But Allie was already grinning with delight and relief. 

"Thank you. Thank you so much," she gushed. 

"You should prepare yourself, and the daughter, for a gruelling case. If I take this on you should expect a long preparation period. I will most likely need both of them to testify to some extremely unpleasant facts. And there is no certainty of success …"

"I know," Allie assured her, but her heart was light and, for the moment at least, she felt sure that one day, not too far in the future, Bea would be back on the outside, where she belonged. 

⁂

After that first visit to Wentworth, Allie had driven from the prison to Debbie's school in a daze, hardly registering the traffic or the turns she made until she suddenly found herself outside the school and parked in her usual spot. She switched off the engine to wait for Debbie and sat thinking about all the things she had said and not said to Bea. No doubt there were also things that the other woman had kept quiet about, but Allie felt bad for chickening out of telling her the truth about her past. It could be argued that it was none of her business, but Allie knew deep down that the things that she had not told Bea were the exact things that a mother would want to know about the person who was looking after her child.

It was unlike her to shy away from revealing those ugly truths when people needed to know. She had exposed it all mercilessly when she went through the process of becoming a fosterer, certain that it would disqualify her. Instead, Michelle had seen the potential of having someone with her experience on the team. What she had been through would allow her to connect with young people from some very difficult backgrounds. And so it had proved.

Debbie had flung open the door and thrown herself into the passenger seat at that moment, complaining loudly about some _impossible_ homework she had been given. Allie smiled at her. 

"Is it chemistry?" she asked, with a sly look. Debbie stared at her. 

"How did you know?" Allie shrugged and smiled, remembering what Bea had said about Debbie's antipathy to chemistry. 

"Lucky guess," she replied, turning the car towards home. "Let me know if you need some help. I'm good with chemistry."

As they drove Debbie told her about her day, speaking fluently and excitedly about her friends, her lunch, and a composition project that had been set by her music teacher. Allie kept her eyes on the road and nodded along, playing it cool, but internally thrilled that Debbie now felt able to spill out the contents of her head so freely. For now at least, the painful silences and monosyllabic answers were gone and Debbie seemed just like any other ordinary teenage girl. She was squirrelling these moments away to replay later, maybe when Debbie was less communicative, maybe to share with Bea on her next visit, when a change in Debbie's tone caught her attention. 

"So. How'd it go?"

Allie was tempted to pretend that she didn't know what Debbie meant. Would admitting that she knew that she was talking about her visit to her mum betray the fact that Bea was too much on her mind? Or would it seem more suspicious to play it dumb? Allie shifted in her seat, aware that if she left it any longer to reply Debbie would guess that something was going on.

"You didn't go, did you?" Debbie said in an accusatory tone. " _I knew it_ …"

"Hold on," Allie put in placatingly.

"You never wanted to go; I could tell …" Debbie's temper was ratcheting up now. "You don't want anything to do with her because of what she did …" Debbie's voice was becoming raised in both volume and pitch. 

"That's not …"

" … so maybe you should just _ditch me_ too …"

" _Deb_ …" The girl was spilling angry tears down her face by this point. Allie glanced in her mirror and pulled over to the side of the road. It wasn't safe to drive while she was so distracted. She just hoped that Debbie wouldn't take the opportunity to run off. 

"I should just go to one of those group homes," Debbie said bleakly, wiping her face with an impatient hand. 

"Please listen …" Allie tried to interrupt, pulling on the handbrake. 

"I'm nearly an adult anyway, I don't _need_ …" Debbie began, but trailed off when she glanced at Allie's face. Some of the pain Allie felt at Debbie almost saying that she didn't need her must have shown on her face despite her best efforts. Debbie made an angry noise of frustration and Allie recognised that it was directed inward at herself. Allie gave her a moment. "Sorry …" Debbie wiped at her face some more and took a few deep breaths. 

"It's okay," Allie replied calmly. "I understand that you may not always trust me. Hopefully I can earn that, in time," she said, picking up Debbie's hand and giving it a squeeze. Debbie looked up and they exchanged tentative smiles. Debbie sighed.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to lose it. So … did you see Mum?" Allie nodded, frowning as she remembered the barbed wire, the concrete and the sniffer dog.

"I should have gone with you," Allie said regretfully. "That first time. You shouldn't have had to face that horrible place alone."

"It's fine Allie. And it gets easier. So, did Mum give you the third degree?" Debbie asked nervously. 

"Not at all," Allie said with a smile. "She was perfectly charming." Debbie snorted.

" _I doubt that_ ," she replied with heavy emphasis. Allie pulled a shocked face. 

"It's true!"

"What did you talk about?"

"Hm. I wonder … Could it have been a certain person that we happen to have in common?" Allie asked archly. Debbie laughed. 

"Well. It can't have gone too badly as you're still smiling." Allie regained her seriousness. 

"I liked her," she said simply. "Truly." And it _was_ true - just not the full story. 

"I'm glad," Debbie replied with a grin. Allie grinned back, happy that she seemed to have relieved Debbie of one worry at least.

"How about we go home and I make us some jaffles?" Allie suggested. 

" _Yes!"_ Debbie replied with an excited fist-pump. "With extra cheese!" Allie nodded. 

"Extra cheese," she confirmed. 

⁂

“We just go well together,” Allie confessed. “I think she’s the one …”

“It’s early days bubba,” Kaz interrupted, piercing Allie with her icy gaze.

“I know. But I just _know_ I’m the right person to help Debbie, just like you were the right person to help me." Allie swallowed hard, remembering what she had put Kaz through, how patient and constant she had been with the damaged kid that Allie had been back then. It was an approach that Allie still used today with her own kids. "And leaving behind the emergency fostering for a while might be good for me. Now things are settling down with Debbie it should give me more time for you and Dad and the boys. And for work …”

“And for romance?” Kaz put in cheekily. Allie scoffed. Kaz continued, giving Allie a penetrating look. “Seriously, Allie. I know how much love you have to give. You pour it out unstintingly … but I also know that needy heart of yours. You should get yourself a girl. Look at you. You’re gorgeous, kind, talented … Why deprive some lucky woman of all that?” Allie blushed and looked at the remains of her sandwich. “Oh,” Kaz breathed. “Got your eye on someone have you?” Allie shook her head wishing that an image of Bea Smith had not popped into her mind at that moment.

“Of course not,” she protested.

“Well, good. Because a new girl just started volunteering here. She’s young, pretty and I’m not sure, but I think she might swing your way …” Kaz told her with a mischievous glint in her eye. Allie knew who she meant. Entering the refuge this morning she had noticed the new girl folding laundry as she walked through on her way to Kaz's office. Young, petite, with her dark hair cut short, she was undeniably cute. And undeniably gay, Allie having caught her interested glance. But not Allie's type. She seemed too … _untried_ for Allie. What could they possibly have in common? Though, perhaps she shouldn't judge. Who knew what might have happened to her in her young life to lead her to volunteer at a women's refuge. 

“ _Kaz_ ,” Allie protested, glaring. “Stop trying to fix me up with people will you? I can sort out my own love life …”

“Could've fooled me.” Allie tossed a grape at Kaz's face, missing by a mile. Kaz laughed and held her hands up in surrender. “ _Okay, okay_. I won’t meddle.” They both chewed in silence for a minute. “So what else can you tell me about Debbie?” Kaz asked. “I know a lot of what you do is confidential, but there must be something.” Allie thought for a moment.

“Well … she’s sixteen. Smart, hardworking. She’s funny, talented …”

“Sounds perfect. Does she have an older sister for you?” Allie’s traitorous brain showed her an image of Bea sitting at the table in the visitor's room, smiling shyly at something Allie had said.

“ _Kaz!_ ”

“Sorry. That was inappropriate.” She took another bite of her sandwich, swinging a little on her desk chair. “So why’s she with you? What happened with her family?”

“Um. Not sure I should say. It’s been in all the papers," Allie began. "Let's just say that her mum's somewhere where she can't help her right now." Kaz nodded thoughtfully, her eyes clouding over. Allie knew she was working it out. She dropped her sandwich back down, having suddenly lost her appetite. What if Josephine Pym couldn't get Bea's sentence reduced? Wentworth was a dangerous place. Only a few weeks ago there had been a riot in which the Governor had been _murdered_. The less time Bea spent in that place the better. Allie, suddenly restless, screwed up her sandwich wrapper and napkin and dumped them, with the remnants of her lunch, into Kaz's bin. "I'd better let you get back to work …" she said, standing up and looking away in an attempt to hide her mood from Kaz. Kaz just nodded but Allie knew that she had intuited something of her change of heart.

"It was good to see you, Allie. We should do this again soon." Kaz stood up and gave her a tight hug. "Make sure that you say hello to the lovely Freya on your way out!" Allie scowled.

⁂

Allie tapped on Debbie's door. "Come in …" Debbie called out. Opening the door Allie found her lying on her bed with a book in her hand, Nova nestled in her lap. 

"So _that's_ where you got to," Allie said, talking to the cat. Debbie ran the fingers of her free hand through Nova's fur.

"She likes a good book," Debbie explained. 

"Of course she does," Allie rejoined. "I couldn't have any kind of cat except a book loving cat." She reached over to give Nova a stroke, smiling to hear her purr ratchet up a notch. "Do you know what Mark Twain said about cats?" Debbie shook her head. Probably couldn't care less, Allie thought, but ploughed on anyway. "Something along the lines that you can have a happy, comfortable home but the only way of _proving_ that you have a happy, comfortable home is by having a well-fed, content cat." Debbie smiled. 

"I like that."

"What have you got there?" Allie asked, gesturing to the book in Debbie's hand. Debbie held it out so that Allie could read the title on the spine. " _Little Women_ , huh?"

"An old favourite," Debbie replied. Allie nodded. _Comfort read_ , she thought.

"I didn't have you down as a fan of classic literature," Allie admitted.

"I'm not _usually_. I just love the idea of those four girls growing up together. All the fun and noise and mess …" Allie scoffed. 

"I hate to break it to you but being one of four isn't as much fun as it sounds."

"That's right," Debbie said. "You have all those brothers."

"And it was definitely noisy and messy! Sometimes I just longed for some peace and quiet." Allie thought about Debbie growing up as an only child. True, she didn't have the bother of younger siblings, and she had the loving mother that Allie had missed out on, but her childhood had been far from peaceful. She sighed. "The grass is always greener, huh?" she said ruefully. Debbie didn't answer, just blinked rapidly and concentrated on stroking the cat. "Anyway," Allie continued. "The reason I came up was to tell you that there’s a possibility of a new lawyer for your mum." Debbie's eyes flew up to meet Allie's. "Nothing's certain yet, so don't get your hopes up, but if she takes the case, she'll fight against the murder charge." Debbie surged to her feet, depositing Nova on the bed.

" _Really_ ?" Allie nodded. "But that's … _brilliant_." Allie smiled and nodded. 

"But the thing is … If it goes ahead … you and your mum will be asked lots of questions. Intrusive questions … about your dad. Questions you might not want to answer." Debbie's face had paled. "So, I'm raising it now to give you some time to think about how that would feel. And which things you might be prepared to talk about. And which things you wouldn't. You should probably get into it with your therapist." Debbie nodded her understanding but looked so disconcertingly like Bea in that moment that Allie felt her heart rattle against her ribs. What was that shared emotion that Allie had seen on both of their faces? A hot rush of realisation ran through her. _Shame_. That's what that was. And the injustice of either of them being ashamed of what had been done to them took her breath away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you're probably impatient for Allie and Bea to be in the same room together, but bear with me.


	5. "Lifeboat"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which anticipation is felt and a friendship is launched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter. Warning. Near the end there is a description of a miscarriage. It's not graphic, but if you have suffered a miscarriage yourself, firstly, I'm sorry to hear that, and secondly, you might find it upsetting.

Bea was restless, pacing the unit. Some kind of urgent chemical was racing through her veins making her heart operate at what must be approaching double its normal rate. It was an unfamiliar feeling, but she knew it for what it was. Excitement. And with good reason: she had them all lined up beneath her breastbone. Her thank yous. For Allie.

She knew she was making a show of herself but didn't seem to be able to stop. Boomer loitered in her doorway chewing on a Cherry Ripe. Her head followed Bea from side to side as if she was watching a tennis match, a look of mild entertainment on her face. Liz and Doreen were sitting on the sofa, pretending not to notice. But Franky … Franky was grinning. Draped around Kim, who was trying to get her full attention, Franky could scarcely contain herself.

"So, Red. Who's the hot blonde?" she called in a teasing tone as Bea passed her again. Bea scowled and tutted. 

"You know who. Debbie's foster carer," she replied sullenly. Franky grinned triumphantly. 

"Good to know you think she's hot, but I meant _yesterday's_ hot blonde." Bea felt herself flush up dramatically. She'd fallen into one of Franky’s traps again. Franky guffawed gleefully at Bea’s discomfiture. Allie was just on her mind, that’s all, Bea thought, her visit due any minute.

Truthfully, Allie had been on her mind all week. Immediately after Allie had left last week, as soon as she was alone in her room, she had replayed the visit and everything that was said. Lots of what happened made an irrepressible smile spread across her face. But other parts made her want to pound her head against the wall or tear her hair out in embarrassment. Why did she have to be so useless at talking to people? Allie must have come to the conclusion that she was some kind of social inadequate, what with the silences and the blushing and the staring. Bea did have a tendency to be a little socially awkward but, unless she was imagining it, it was worse than usual around Allie. That would be the last she would see of _her,_ she had concluded.

So it was something of a shock to receive, first of all, a visitation request from Allie herself, followed by a second, from a new lawyer that Allie had identified: Josephine Pym. Josephine Pym was the “hot blonde” that Franky had spotted.

“My lawyer,” Bea muttered. Franky frowned in confusion. 

"What happened to the gormless, sweaty guy?" she asked. 

"Allie found me this new lawyer who reckons she can knock the charge down to manslaughter and minimise my sentence."

"Oh, miracle worker, is she? How's she gunna do that?" Bea shrugged, preferring not to reveal that she had agreed to see a forensic psychologist. Getting a reduced sentence would depend on the shrink determining that she was suffering from diminished responsibility when she killed Harry. He or she would need to say that her judgement had been impeded by years of living under Harry's violence and control. Just thinking about talking about all that had happened made her turn hot and cold.

Then she remembered the photos. Distracted from thoughts of Harry, she gripped her own ribs in a delighted hug. This was another thing to thank Allie for. In the mail she had received three new photographs of Debbie: honest to goodness glossy prints. Bea had been made up when she had tipped them out of the envelope onto her bed, as her only photo of Debbie had been damaged during a ramp and, although Doreen had fixed it for her, it was still looking a bit tatty. The new photographs showed Debbie sitting on a strange couch with a white and tortoiseshell cat in her lap; reclining in an unfamiliar, sunny backyard; and, in the third shot, sitting at a smart, new-looking desk in what must now be her bedroom. At first Bea had found it unsettling to see her daughter in these unknown settings, but once she had got used to it, it was actually comforting to be able to visualise Debbie's new life, to see that everything appeared to be clean and well ordered. And safe.

And then there was the letter. Bea couldn't remember the last time she had received an actual handwritten letter. Allie's loopy scrawl was unexpected and her turn of phrase unusual, but the thoughtful contents and teasing tone were exactly in line with the woman Bea had met in the visitors’ room last week. It was chock-full of the kind of incident and detail that only a parent could relish, so Debbie must have given permission for Allie to share pretty much whatever she liked. She had read it over and over, and already the paper was beginning to soften and wear at the folds.

“Maybe you can get your hot new lawyer to rescue Franky too,” Kim suggested. Turning to Franky with a pout she added, “You need to get out of here soon, baby. When I’m released, I’ll be missing you so bad …” Franky grinned at her, hooked her arm around her neck and pulled her in for a long, messy kiss. Bea looked away, uncomfortable.

She turned her thoughts to Debbie, wondering what news of her Allie would bring today, remembering how buoyant she had seemed at their last visit. 

⁂

"Hi baby," Bea whispered into Debbie's ear as she hugged her. 

"Hey mum," Debbie said self-consciously, glancing over her shoulder nervously. 

"Everything okay?" Bea asked. Debbie smiled and focussed on her face. 

"Sure." They sat down.

"Thanks for the package you sent in. The teabags and everything. All my favourites …"

"No problem."

"When Liz saw it, she said that you were one of the good ones …"

"It's the least I could do, Mum."

"Little luxuries like that go a long way in here. So, thanks Deb." Debbie rolled her eyes. 

"Allie picked them up for me when she went to the supermarket."

"But I know it was your idea …"

" _Mum_ …" Debbie complained in that special tone of voice teenagers reserve for embarrassing parents.

"Okay, I'll stop going on now," Bea allowed with a smile. She pressed her lips closed, anxiously scanning her daughter's face. Was she really alright? She waited for Debbie to volunteer something. Anything. Something from the outside. Something that wasn't a grudge or a hustle. A shove on the basketball court. A surreptitious drug hand-off. A dining hall power play over pudding. But the silence stretched out. 

"So …"

"Allie said …" They both began at the same time. Bea huffed out a laugh, Debbie smiled. 

"What were you going to say?" Bea asked. Debbie shrugged. 

"Only that Allie said that she liked meeting you." And just like that Bea's lips started to curve up into a smile. She tried to make her face muscles hold the line of her lips horizontal. It was a losing battle and Debbie watched her twitch and grimace with a dubious expression on her face. 

“Oh, yeah?” Bea said, once she had managed to get her face in order. Debbie nodded. “Well, I have to say I was surprised by how young she is. But impressed by how professional she seems …” Debbie started laughing. "What?" Bea asked. Debbie shook her head, a broad smile on her face. 

"You wouldn't say that if you saw her clowning about in the house." Bea thought about how, by the end of the visit, Allie had made her laugh and eased her fears. 

"What do you mean?" Bea asked, her head suddenly fizzing with curiosity.

"Ugh," Debbie groaned in mock despair. "She's a total klutz, so accident prone. And such a child sometimes … in a fun way. Last night when she was cooking dinner and dancing around the kitchen _as usual_ to that _horrendous_ music she likes, she hadn't noticed that her shoelace had come undone. So she nearly wipes herself out tripping into the table, then she burns her wrist putting the pizza into the oven. All the time she's singing at the top of her voice, apart from when she's swearing like a trooper …" Bea listened attentively, unable to prevent her smiles and laughter from mirroring those of her daughter. "And then some song comes on the radio and she drags me into the kitchen saying that I have to dance with her because this is the _best song ever_ …" Debbie was dissolving into laughter, remembering what had happened. 

"What was it?" Bea asked, too eagerly. "What was the song?" Debbie waved her hand airily. 

"Oh, I don't know. Some old-timey thing. The kind of thing _you'd_ listen to." Bea pulled a shocked face, pretending to be offended by Debbie's comment, but at least half of her brain was visualising the scene that Debbie had described. Imagining the way Allie's eyes would have shimmered with pleasure; how the pink bow of her lips would have parted in a smile, showing her straight white teeth; how Debbie would have resisted at first, laughing … "Mum …" Debbie's concerned voice brought her back to the present. "You know she'll never take your place, right?" 

"What? I wasn't thinking that," she denied quickly. Debbie scanned her face anxiously and Bea became aware of the tears that were standing out in her eyes. She took her daughter’s hand and squeezed it in reassurance. "It's not that Deb … It's … I'm happy that you have someone who doesn't just look after you but who you can have fun with. It sounds like the two of you get along and that she likes having you around." Bea clenched her jaw hard, until her teeth ached and the tears dried where they stood. When she spoke again her voice was full of salt and gravel, the words dredged up through her throat from some silted-up emotional estuary. She swallowed painfully. "As I can't be with you right now, I'm glad you've got Allie," she admitted, nodding to herself, recognising the truth of those words. 

"Yeah, me too," Debbie said in a close whisper. "Especially since she's put herself on a mission to rescue you." The hugeness of that mission and the generosity of Allie’s impulses caused Bea’s eyes to close involuntarily for a second and required another heavy swallow for the importance of the idea to be ingested. She cleared her throat and spoke again.

"Yeah, I got the paperwork about this lawyer she's found. Think she'll be any good?" Debbie nodded vigorously, her hair bouncing.

“Sure to be. Allie spent days being very secretive on the phone. I only found out afterwards that she was scouring Melbourne for the perfect lawyer. Someone who will fight for you, she said.” Bea felt her face heat up. “What?” Debbie asked. Bea shrugged helplessly.

“I was going to say that I don’t know why she bothers, but it’s obvious when you think about it,” she said hoarsely. 

“She wants to help you …” Debbie explained as if she was talking to a small child.

“She wants to help _you,_ ” Bea countered. Debbie tsked impatiently.

“Is it not possible for both things to be true?” Debbie asked, as if she was talking to an even smaller child. Internally, Bea had to concede that it was possible. Her lips began to twitch up again. She quickly glanced at her daughter to see if she had noticed. Debbie’s eyes were watchful, but what she made of what she saw Bea couldn’t tell. “I think she might be the friend we never knew we needed,” Debbie said seriously, her eyes scouring Bea’s face. All Bea could do was nod humbly.

⁂

_Dear Bea,_

_Here it is, a letter you never asked for, from a person you hardly know, about God only knows what. I hope that the enclosed photos will justify the liberty I’m taking in writing to you. I don’t know what your room is like, but I’m taking a guess that it’s bland enough to be enlivened by a few pictures of Debbie. Also, I hope that by now you have received a visitation request from Josephine Pym. She's the lawyer that I said I would try to find for you. She hasn’t promised to take your case, but if she is as impressive in person as she was over the phone, I think you would be well advised to try to get her to represent you._

_It hardly seems appropriate to ask someone in your situation how they are and what they have been doing, which would be the traditional opening for a letter, so instead I will tell you what's been going on here. Debbie is fine (sorry, I should have opened with that, shouldn't I?). She brought her friend Chloe over after school yesterday. I think you know Chloe: with the pink streaks in her hair, the piercings and, well, the piercing voice. She's a lovely girl but I was a little worried that my neighbours, who are extremely tolerant, even of Debbie's trumpet practice, would be banging on the door to complain once Chloe started up. Anyway, it makes me happy to know that Debbie feels relaxed enough here to bring her friends round for me to feed._

_Boy these kids can eat! Sometimes it seems like Debbie is going to scrape the glaze off the plate at mealtimes. I’m now discovering that a more substantial breakfast helps reduce the whining later in the day. So, it’s Weet-Bix followed by eggs and toast or one of my ultimate bacon sangers (featuring a fried egg, grated cheese and tomatoes - don’t worry, I’ll give you the recipe sometime). I thought Debbie was going to barf the other day when I gave her an egg mayo sandwich for lunch. Turns out she can’t stand the smell and never has been able to. A little warning would have been nice, Bea! Seems I can’t go wrong with pizza though. I didn’t know it was possible for someone of her size to disappear quite that many slices. She doesn’t approve of pineapple on pizzas though. Does she get that from you, I wonder?_

_You could also have warned me that your daughter is a total ninja at Monopoly. She bankrupted me three times in a row …_

_..._

_Before I go, I wanted to ask you what you thought about my dad and brothers meeting Debbie. I don’t want Debbie to think I’m excluding her from the rest of my family, but at the same time I’m aware that you might be concerned that she could integrate too much. I’m very conscious that I only have Debbie ‘on loan’. You mustn’t worry. I know she’s your daughter and I’m very invested in the two of you being reunited as soon as possible. I’m not trying to steal her or anything, but she might benefit from being in a larger family circle. My youngest brother, Joe, is only a few years older than Debbie, and I think they might hit it off. I’ll be seeing you in a couple of days, anyway. Hopefully. I’ve sent in a visitation request. I’m assuming you got it. Anyway, I’m rambling, so I’ll stop now and we can discuss it when I see you._

_Love, Allie._

⁂

Pausing in her pacing for a moment, Bea turned over in her mind Allie’s request for Debbie to meet her family. It was uncanny how Allie had identified her insecurities so accurately. It made her anxious to imagine Debbie being pulled into a loving family containing all the things that Bea hadn't been able to give her: a devoted dad and brothers who would tease her and look out for her. 

Bea had become pregnant again when Debbie was three. She survived the beating that Harry gave her when she told him, but she was uneasy about the health of the baby. She booked a scan and was informed that the baby had ceased developing, which turned out to be code for "dead". Bea was forced to go into hospital for what was termed a "medically managed miscarriage". That was another way of saying that she would be given a drug that would force her body to expel the remains of her dead child. Harry didn't come with her of course, and whilst most women wouldn't want to go through something like that on their own, Bea was grateful to be able to mourn in peace.

After that Bea never conceived again. For a few years she had puzzled over whether Harry had damaged her so badly that she couldn't get pregnant again. His sexual interest in her had dwindled over the years, thank goodness, so perhaps that was the reason there were no more children. But Bea preferred to think that it was her hatred of Harry that prevented his seed from taking root, an idea that gave her a certain satisfaction. 

But even now, all these years later, she thought about the child she had lost, tracking its age, wondering if it was a boy or a girl, and in her bleaker moments deciding it was better off unborn. What would it have been like to have had a second child? Would it have made any of them happier? Was it possible that that child could have eased their explosive family life? Or would it just have been one more person in the firing line? One more young life blighted by violence. One more bottomless hole for Bea to shovel her guilt into. 

Bea knew that the right thing to do was to allow Debbie to benefit, not only from Allie's care, but from the normalcy that becoming a part of a larger family unit would bring. Bea had, out of necessity, begun to build her own family inside Wentworth and it would be perverse not to allow Debbie to do the same on the outside. So Debbie would become part of the Novak clan for a while, but Bea would reclaim her the moment she got out of here. The campaign for her freedom was about to be launched, thanks to Allie, and Bea was abruptly determined to do whatever it took to make that campaign a success. Stilling, she shook out her shoulders, clenched and unclenched her fists, and waited calmly for Mr Jackson to fetch her for her visit. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to keep you waiting, yet again, for Bea and Allie to be together. Next chapter, I promise.


	6. "And the Desert Shall Blossom"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which near strangers meet and a friendship is forged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are. I hope you enjoy this.  
> (You perhaps won't recognise the chapter title this week as it is taken from an episode of "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" rather than from one of his movies.)

Allie looked different this week. Bea hardly recognised her, practically doing a comic double-take as Allie crossed the room towards her. Today that shiny hair was down around her shoulders, swinging a little with her step. She must have caught the sun, as her cheeks were quite pink making the blue of her eyes a more shocking shade than seemed possible. A rapid rake of her eyes down Allie's tall frame revealed her to be dressed casually in faded cropped jeans and a fitted old-gold t-shirt with some kind of printed graphic. Her feet sported a pair of new-looking bright turquoise runners over tiny white socks. She looked like what she was: a beautiful girl, and the informal outfit emphasised her youth to a startling degree. 

Bea got to her feet, her nerves jangling. Once Allie reached her they both dithered for a moment. Allie looked surprisingly flustered, and Bea wondered what greeting was appropriate given everything that seemed to have happened in the past week: a handshake or a hug. In the end she opted for a wave that invited Allie to sit. Once they were both seated Bea opened her mouth to begin with her thank yous, but the smile that now kindled in Allie’s eyes and crossed her face like a trail of beacons caused the words to dry up in her throat. What could be making her smile like that? After a moment Bea became aware of that strange ache in her own face which meant that, unexpectedly, she was smiling, hard.

"Hi!" Allie exclaimed, so delightedly that Bea could only shake her head and, with a slight laugh, avert her eyes to the table top. Who could be so pleased to be in a place like this, even for an hour? Looking up without raising her head she could see that Allie was still smiling at her, looking not at all embarrassed by either Bea’s silence or her own abundant cheer.

“Hi …” Bea finally said, her voice coming out not much louder than a faint croak. She cleared her throat self-consciously, but Allie seemed hardly to notice, lifting her hands to tug at her own t-shirt.

“Look! I wore this for you!” Bea focussed on the design on Allie’s chest. At the top was a large bee in flight, and beneath its tail was a looping trail that seemed to spell something out. She turned her head to one side to decipher the twisting script. “Let it,” Allie said before she could make it out. “Let it bee, Bea,” she said with a laugh, peering down at her own chest. “Corny, I know, but when I remembered I had it I couldn’t resist wearing it today.” She paused expectantly. Bea was smiling to herself at the thought of Allie putting an outfit together for her benefit, but decided to play it cool, straightening her face and flattening her tone.

“That’s … _bee-rilliant_ Allie,” she intoned sarcastically, catching her eye, pleased to see an answering glimmer. Allie gave her arm a playful shove.

“Hey!” she protested. “At least I made an effort!” She gestured at Bea’s prison issue t-shirt and hoodie. Bea kept her face straight until Allie began to panic. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive ... “ she began, looking stricken. Bea smiled to let her know that she was only teasing. Allie gave an explosive gasp of relieved laughter. 

"Anyway," Bea went on, feeling unusually confident. "I don't know what you mean. Teal features strongly in the Wentworth collection this year …" Allie laughed some more and Bea smiled along, enjoying the effect she was having. She wasn't usually like this with people, except maybe Debbie. With her colleagues at the salon, and even with the women on her unit, she was usually more serious, more reserved, but something about Allie brought out a lighter side. 

⁂

On first spotting Bea across the visitor's room, Allie was momentarily frozen. She must have forgotten. How could she have forgotten? She had been thinking about Bea all week and yet somehow she had forgotten how _impossibly_ _beautiful_ she was. Or maybe she hadn't noticed properly last week. Maybe it was only now that she was feeling the full effect: the glorious hair; the incredible bone structure; the adorable trace of worry on her face; and more than anything, the compact frame, something about which made her arms ache. Gripping her own elbows she felt a blush spread up from her chest to her cheeks, her stomach flipped and her heart pounded. Taking a deep breath she concentrated on walking as normally as possible considering her weakened knees and made her way over to Bea.

Standing in front of her, Allie had to stop herself from hugging her and, although last week she would have said that Bea definitely wouldn't welcome such an intimacy, this week she wasn't so sure. Her eyes were on Allie's, her shoulders were back, chin up, and she seemed subtly more confident than at their last meeting. But whilst she processed these impressions time skipped along and the moment was lost.

Sitting down, facing Bea, soaking up the satisfaction of being in her presence, Allie's heart expanded in her chest like a suddenly submerged sponge. Such relief, that swelling, that softening of a calloused part of her. She had not even been aware of its withered state until that moment, but now she was teeming with happiness, with love. Maybe Kaz was right: she _had_ been neglecting a necessary part of herself.

She could feel that she was smiling hugely, inappropriately so, but Bea was smiling back so, not only did she not care, but she smiled even more broadly at the thought that Bea was actually pleased to see her. And when Bea looked shyly at the table, still smiling, Allie's heart beat so hard she felt a little dizzy. 

Lightheaded, she drew attention to her t-shirt, not even with-it enough to care if Bea thought it was stupid. " _Bee-rilliant",_ Bea teased. Allie laughed. She couldn't have been more proud or pleased if Bea had split the atom or … taken her hand … or something equally momentous. A thrill ran through her. Half of her brain was occupied with Bea and her banter, whilst the other half was imagining how it would feel to have Bea take her hand across the table. Her touch would be gentle, maybe even cautious; her hand would feel cool in Allie's warmer one; and if her brown eyes found the courage to raise themselves to Allie's, they would be full of doubt, questioning, asking permission …

Allie abruptly became aware that Bea was staring at her hand where it lay on the table. Did she somehow know what she had been thinking about? Shocked by the thought, Allie quickly drew her hand back into her lap. Glancing at Bea's now serious face, she watched as Bea's lips parted with the clear intention of speaking. Illogically terrified that Bea was about to call her out on her improper thoughts, she interrupted her by launching into the first topic that came to mind.

"So, Bea, I could really do with your advice about Debbie’s trumpet valves …" she blurted. Bea's left eyebrow quirked. 

⁂

Bea swallowed back her thanks for the second time, confused by Allie’s sudden change of conversational direction.

“Um … okay. What about them?”

“So, we take them out to clean them, but then when we put them back in, the trumpet won’t play right and we have to spend ages taking them out and putting them back in until eventually it plays … but we’re never sure what we did right … or wrong … in the first place.” Allie delivered this whole sentence, if it could be called a sentence, in one breathless rush whilst apparently staring at a spot on the wall a few centimetres above Bea’s right ear. When she stopped speaking her eyes flicked to Bea’s for a moment before whisking away again. Bea didn’t know whether to be amused or concerned by her sudden change in demeanour. Eventually she settled for replying very slowly and calmly as though she was speaking to Kaiya when she got upset.

“When the valves start sticking, only take _one_ out at a time so you don't get them muddled up. Clean that valve using just a tiny bit of the valve oil and the cloth from the pocket of Debbie’s trumpet case. When it’s clean, slide it back in, and this is important …” she paused a moment and was rewarded by Allie’s flighty gaze resting on hers again. “You’ll see a faint number etched near the top of the valve - one, two or three, depending on its position - make sure that number is facing _directly_ at the mouthpiece. Then, when you screw it back in, the valve will be lined up properly and you shouldn’t have any trouble with it.” Bea noticed that Allie had begun to return her gaze again whilst she spelled out the steps for trumpet maintenance and that, by the time she had finished speaking, her composure was back in place.

"Thanks. I'll try that next time," Allie replied, smiling and leaning forward again. 

"How's the practice going?" Bea asked, remembering Allie's rendition of Debbie's tune from last week. Allie grinned in such a way that Bea wondered if she was thinking of the same thing.

"Definitely improving," she replied emphatically with a nod. "Nova doesn't agree though. Every time Debbie starts warming up, her little ears go back and she slinks out of the room." Allie smiled right into her eyes. Feeling slightly dazzled, Bea could only nod in return. "But generally those two are inseparable. If I ever wonder where Nova is, she's always to be found in Debbie's room." Bea cleared her throat. 

"Debbie always loved animals," she said quietly, looking at the table. Her heart started pounding, knowing what she was planning to reveal, wondering if it was a good idea, but unable to stop herself. "There was a cat visiting our garden last year. A young black cat with white paws. Debbie christened him Tip-Toes. Every time she saw him through the window, she would run out to him and stroke him." Bea looked up to find Allie watching her carefully. Somehow she had intuited that this was no light-hearted anecdote. Her face reflected that she was listening attentively, that she wanted to understand. A bubble of gratitude welled up in Bea that there was another human who wanted to know and understand Debbie as well as she did. 

"Harry hated that cat. He would never say anything to Debbie, but to me he would complain that it would mess in the garden and kill the birds." Bea scoffed. "Not that he cared about those things. He just hated how much Debbie adored that cat. Wanted her attention for himself." Bea stopped. Her mouth was dry and she was suddenly unsure that she could go through with it and tell the whole story. "He told me to find out who it belonged to. I didn't want to do that. I knew he would go round there and make a scene … get into a fight even. Besides, Debbie would be upset if the cat stopped coming … so I didn't do anything."

Shame heated her cheeks and brought tears to her eyes. _Don't cry, don't cry_ , she begged herself, staring at the table. If she opened her mouth to speak now, she knew that it wouldn't be words that came out, it would be years and years’ worth of tears. She had stored up her shame and disappointment for so long that if she let it out now, how would she ever stop?

“It’s okay Bea. You don’t have to tell me if it’s too hard.” Allie’s voice was so tender that it only made Bea want to cry more. Unable to look up at Allie’s face, she looked at Allie’s hands instead. Just like earlier, she noticed the shiny red mark at the base of her thumb, just where it joined her wrist. Bea had burned herself on the oven in exactly that way so many times that it was easy to recognise it as the injury that Debbie had mentioned at her last visit. Now it was all she could do to resist the temptation to reach out and sooth the mark with her thumb. A sudden sympathetic pain ran through her, such as she hadn’t felt since Debbie was small and had fallen and scraped her knee or some such childish injury. She felt a sudden rush of anger that this woman should bring out this softness in her. It didn’t help her; it _couldn’t_ help her, not in here.

⁂

Allie almost recoiled at the sudden tension that bristled through Bea’s body. Whatever she had been about to tell her about Debbie and the cat was clearly very upsetting, but now she seemed filled with a quite unexpected rage. What had she done to precipitate it? What could she now do to calm her down? Bea was staring at her hand again so, almost without thinking, as if in a trance, she pushed her hand across the table a little and turned it over so that her palm was uppermost in what she hoped was a clear invitation. Heart pounding at her boldness, she flexed her fingers a little in a suggestive beckoning motion. Hearing Bea make an almost inaudible huff of laughter she began to smile to herself, though still not daring to raise her eyes to Bea’s.

“I was looking at this, actually,” Bea said in a low voice, reaching out and tracing the burn on her wrist with the tip of her index finger. Her touch was cool and soothing against the hot skin of Allie's wrist, but the rest of her body lit up as if a million tiny droplets of rain had swept across her flesh in a split second. A shiver ran through her and Bea abruptly withdrew her hand so that Allie's was left lying there on the table between them like a starfish stranded on the sand. Allie blinked dumbly at it for a moment before curling her fingers over her palm and drawing it back into her body protectively.

"I burned myself …" Allie replied, her voice little more than a breath.

" … on the oven," Bea finished for her. Allie's eyes flew up to Bea's in surprise. "Debbie told me," Bea explained with a twisted smile. Allie noticed that the sudden rage had fled her body, though her eyes still held on to it, iron-cold fragments lodged in the spokes of her warm brown irises. "She told me all about you singing and dancing in the kitchen," Bea added with a touch of mischievousness. Allie's face flooded with heat to imagine Bea and Debbie talking about her when she wasn't there. But of course they must, Allie realised. Bea was forever checking that Debbie was alright and that necessitated making sure that Allie was treating her well. 

"I _was_ pretty awesome," Allie mock bragged to cover her embarrassment. Bea nodded solemnly. 

"Uh huh," she replied sarcastically. "I heard how you tripped over your shoelaces." Allie couldn't help blushing again, but she no longer cared. Bea's eyes had warmed through and she seemed to have returned to her former good humour. "What was it?" Bea was asking when Allie became aware she was speaking again. 

"What was what?" she asked, wondering if she had missed something when she was thinking about Bea's eyes.

"The best song ever." Allie's mind was blank and it must have shown. Bea looked faintly disappointed. "It's what you said to Debbie about the music you were dancing to." Allie scoured her memory. What had it been? Bea's face was dropping. _Shit. C'mon, think!_ And then it was there in her mind. For a second she almost just blurted it out, but at the last moment it occurred to her that she could have some fun with Bea and so she began humming the melody and performing a slight groove in her seat. Predictably, Bea began to squirm and look around to see if people had noticed. Allie began to sing quietly along with her weird seated dance. 

" _When you cut the lights out think of me_ ," she sang, giving Bea an exaggeration of a suggestive look until she smiled and shook her head. 

" _When you cut the lights out, think of all the things you can't see,"_ she sang a little louder, holding the tune pretty well she thought.

 _"But are they re-a-l?"_ People were definitely looking now. Bea had covered her eyes with her hand and was sliding her body under the table as much as possible whilst remaining seated.

 _"That face will be rev-e-e-aled … rev-e-e-aled … rev-e-e-aled," _Allie sang, doing her best to impersonate Jake Shears, increasing the volume and stretching out the final word until she could detect Bea's shoulders shaking with laughter. Someone somewhere in the room gave her an ironic clap or two. When she noticed that one of the prison guards was giving her a wary look she smiled at him and mimed zipping her lips closed. 

When Bea was upright again, Allie was delighted to see how her face had opened up and her eyes danced with amusement. Her heart swelled to be the cause of her pleasure. 

"Scissor Sisters, right?" Bea asked. Allie pointed at her in confirmation; thumb up like she was firing a gun.

" _Right_. You're on the team," Allie told her. Bea looked puzzled. "When you get out of here. You, me, Debbie … maybe one of my brothers? There's a quiz night at this pub near me …" Allie trailed off. She could have bitten her tongue. How stupid was she to a). mention Bea getting out when none of them knew how far off that might be and b). to bring up Debbie and Joe in the same sentence when Bea hadn’t so much as alluded to what she thought about Allie’s suggestion that Debbie be introduced to her family. But when Allie checked Bea’s eyes they were still smiling although her face was sombre.

“It’s okay,” she said in a confidential tone, as though she knew exactly what Allie had been thinking. “But I might be a while. You should form that team and I’ll join up later, if that’s okay …” _More than okay_ , Allie thought, feeling teary at Bea’s perceptive response. “And … well, I’ve been trying to say thank you for everything ever since you arrived …” Bea continued until she was interrupted by an announcement.

“Visiting time is now over. Could visitors please make their way …” Allie could see Bea’s jaw clench in frustration.

“ _Damn it!_ ”

⁂

Bea felt like punching the table. The only thing she had on her mind when she came into this visit was thanking Allie and it was the one thing that she hadn’t managed to do.

“There’s no need,” Allie said sweetly.

“I disagree,” Bea growled. All around them people were standing and saying a last goodbye. Bea remained rooted to her chair, unwilling to admit that time, which usually passed so slowly in here, had escaped her.

“Write to me,” Allie said, standing up.

“What?”

“Write to me. You can thank me in your letter … and tell me what you think about my idea of Debbie meeting my family …”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Bea said quickly, not at all sold on the idea of writing a letter.

“Smith. Time to go,” Miss Bennett called in a strict voice, having noticed that she was the only one still seated. Bea got to her feet reluctantly.

“Good,” Allie said with a smile. “But still … _write to me?_ ” It was pretty much a plea this time and Bea found that she couldn’t refuse. Looking at her feet, she nodded, wondering what she could possibly have to put in a letter. And then, she didn’t know how it happened, Allie was embracing her. It should have felt strange: Allie’s arms were snug around her shoulders and Bea found her own arms coming to a natural rest around Allie’s waist, whilst her face was suddenly inside the fragrant curtain of her hair. It wasn’t the kind of hug she had experienced with other friends, where only the very top of their bodies would meet. It was a full body hug. Allie was pressed against her from shoulders to knees; their feet having somehow found a natural alternating pattern to allow this. She had the strongest impulse to just sag against her, to allow Allie to support her, but her mind fought it, as though to succumb would be to dissolve. She felt herself begin to tremble with the twin strains of yearning and resisting, and quickly stepped back before Allie could notice.

“So, yeah,” she husked awkwardly. “Next week?”

“Next week,” Allie said with a look, the significance of which Bea couldn’t interpret “Bye, Bea.”

“Bye,” she replied, the melancholy cadence of that word matching the sinking of her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from "Lights" by Scissor Sisters.  
> Comments welcomed 😊


	7. "Torn Curtain"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a family gathering and a realisation occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I hope you are well. Here is the next chapter. Enjoy.

Allie pulled Bea's letter out of her bag. She still had a few minutes before it was time to go in and she wanted to reread it. She had read it so many times in the last few days that she almost had it by heart, but after this morning's realisation … well, it might seem different. 

**Dear Allie,**

**You wanted me to write and so I will do my best to write something that you will enjoy reading, although being locked up in here, there is not much to tell. Sorry about the notepaper. I don't have any so I borrowed some from Boomer. I'm not sure why she has this Eiffel Tower stuff; I'm sure she's never left the country.**

**Starting from the beginning, I want to say thank you. It's what I wanted to say when I saw you, but we seemed to talk about everything and nothing and then the time was all gone. It's a shame that the time doesn't pass so quickly when I'm working in the laundry or when Franky is telling us about how irresistible women find her.**

**Thank you for Josephine Pym. She has agreed to take my case on for no fee as long as I meet a couple of conditions. She seems so much more capable than the other guy was and wants me to get a short sentence, although she won't say how short.**

**Thank you for the photos of Debbie. Such lovely pictures of her. I look at them every morning when I wake up and at night before I go to sleep. Your home looks beautiful and so, thank you again for opening it up to Debbie.**

**Thank you for your letter. It was so unexpected. Some of the other women get letters. Franky gets loads from her so-called fans. I call them a bunch of creeps. I never expected to get any letters. It was a surprise and I enjoyed listening to everything you had to tell me about Debbie. But you can write about other things if you like. If you write back, I mean. Even ordinary things seem pretty exotic from in here.**

It looked like Bea had taken a break at this point, because the writing looked slightly different in the rest of the letter. 

**I’ve just had the first of my sessions with the clinical psychologist. I don’t think I told you that seeing a shrink was one of the things that Ms Pym said was necessary for my defence. I’m supposed to tell her what it was like living with Harry and at the end of it I guess she is supposed to be able to give a psychological reason for why I killed him. Something more technical than “he was a bastard and I couldn’t take it anymore”. I was nervous before I went in but she has quite a calming manner, so it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I’m not sure I said anything helpful but she said not to worry and that it would take quite a few sessions to get through it all. She asked me some questions that made me think, but I reckon she went easy on me today, didn’t want to scare me off.**

**I wanted to say that I think it’s a good idea if Debbie meets your family, if you still want her to. She has never known what it’s like to have grandparents, siblings, cousins, any of that. It was always just the three of us. Maybe she’s too old to really benefit from it now, I don’t know, but I would like it if she took to them and got to see how a family could really be if it wasn't all screwed up. So I hope you have already set something up. If not, get a move on ...**

⁂

“Deb, are you busy on Sunday?” Allie asked, having tracked her down to the hammock in the backyard.

“I don’t think so. Why?” she asked, not even looking up from her phone.

“Well … I would like it if you would meet my family, so … if you're free, I'll invite them." Debbie's head came up quickly, like she'd been stung.

"Whaddya mean meet your family?" she asked, sounding a bit garbled, her eyes large in her little face. 

"Only if you want to," Allie reassured her. "They're nice. I mean, they're okay, you know, for family. They can be a bit annoying, to be honest. But you know … they're my family, so I have to … " She stopped talking, realising that she was only doing it to fill Debbie's silence. Instead she watched as her face changed with the pattern of her thoughts, like clouds fleeing across the sky.

"Who would it be?"

"So I guess it would be Robbie and his wife Claire, Freddo and Joe. My dad. Maybe Kaz if she can get away from work." She paused to allow that to be absorbed. "Or if that's a bit much, I could just invite a couple of them, or we could just meet my dad for a coffee."

"No it's okay. They should come here," Debbie said thoughtfully. "You've not seen them since I've been living here, have you?" Allie was concerned that she might feel bad about it, but looking at her expression, she just looked curious. 

"I've been texting them and talking to them on the phone, but no, I've not seen them. I wanted to check with your mum first, see if she thought it was a good idea," Allie explained. 

"What did she say?" Debbie asked, rolling out of the hammock and coming to her feet. 

"She was all for it," Allie replied, smiling at the memory of Bea blurting out her approval right at the end of the visit. 

"Do you usually introduce your foster kids to your family?" Debbie asked, giving her that shy look that she shared with her mother. 

"No," Allie admitted. "This will be the first time. Does that make you feel weird? Being a special case?" Debbie laughed and shook her head. 

"No! Because I'm the one you kept," she replied cheekily. Her happy confidence in Allie's wish to keep her around caused joy to flash hotly through Allie's mind.

"Damn right," Allie replied as Debbie stepped into her arms, giving her a quick squeeze. She heard Debbie's phone vibrate. The girl pulled away and looked at the screen, frowning. "Everything alright?" Allie asked. Debbie nodded absently as she wandered back inside. 

⁂

"Hi bubba. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Kaz asked, getting out from behind her desk to give Allie a hug.

"Morning Kaz. I just dropped in to see if you're free Sunday. I thought I'd invite the Novaks over and fire up the grill."

"I'm honoured to be included! What's the occasion?"

"Well … I thought it was time you all met Debbie …"

"So she's here to stay then?" Kaz asked, looking serious. Allie nodded. 

"I hope you're not going to try and change my mind," Allie began. Kaz shook her head. 

"Sit down a minute," Kaz told her. Allie did as she was told with a feeling of mild trepidation. "I've been catching up on the news stories surrounding your girl and her mum." She shook her head. "Terrible story. All they've been through. What Bea Smith was driven to do, and what happens? Instead of help and understanding, she gets thrown in prison. Her daughter separated from her mother just when she needs her most." Allie couldn't disagree with Kaz's analysis and was unsurprised to see the hot rage in Kaz's eyes, magnified by the tears standing out on her lower lids. "The injustice of it makes my blood boil," she growled. Reaching across the desk, she grabbed Allie's hand and squeezed it. "I'm so _proud_ of you Allie. You've really stepped up and helped them. But there must be more that we can do … to help other women." Allie was confused. 

"But that's what you do already. Every day." Kaz made a dismissive gesture. 

"All I'm doing is picking up the pieces after the worst has already happened. And the men who do these things for the most part get away with it. But Bea Smith's husband didn't get away with it. She made sure of that."

"So what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that the system's broken. We can't rely on the criminal justice system." She fixed Allie with a piercing look. "I'm saying we need to take justice into our own hands. Like Bea Smith did."

"Now hold on a minute. You're not seriously suggesting violence …"

"That's exactly what I'm suggesting. Because you know what, Allie? The peaceful approach isn't getting us anywhere,” she said, as if speaking to a simpleton. “Week in week out I have women coming through these doors, and their stories are always much the same. And they're just the ones who got away! We're not _changing_ anything! And if we're not part of the solution, we're part of the problem." Kaz took a breath. 

"But responding violently will only get you hurt, or in prison like Bea," Allie objected.

"Not if I'm smart …"

" _Even_ if you're smart. Bea didn't mean to get caught. And you know what? She wouldn't want people to be inspired to become vigilantes based on her actions. What she did was a fatal last resort to a nearly fatal problem." Allie stopped talking abruptly, aware that she was speaking loudly and urgently. Kaz was gaping at her. Her eyes gleamed with a sudden light of understanding. "What?" Allie asked, her stomach lurching. Kaz had dropped her gaze and was slow to reply. 

"You've been to visit her, haven't you?" she asked at last, raising her eyes to Allie's. 

"Yes, Debbie asked me to …" Allie replied, a little flustered. 

"How many times?"

"Twice," she admitted reluctantly, feeling as though Kas was about to make something of it.

"Going again?" Kaz asked quietly. Allie nodded, unable to meet her eyes. "Oh, bubba," Kaz breathed.

"What?" Allie asked, annoyed by her superior attitude. 

"Just … be careful. We've been here before, remember? A powerful but unavailable older woman … is this ringing any bells, Allie?" Allie scoffed. 

"She's Debbie's mum, _that's all_ ," she countered, distantly aware that this was far from the truth. Kaz nodded in a way that let Allie know that she disbelieved her. 

"And make sure that your commitment to Debbie is an honest one. That it's not based on a connection you want …"

"That's not fair!" Allie exclaimed. "How dare you! I made my commitment to Debbie before I even met Bea …" Kaz held up her hands in a calming gesture. 

"Okay …" she said. But Allie felt as though she was just trying to pacify her, that she didn't believe that her love for Debbie was pure.

"Debbie's a great kid. I want to help and protect her. _You know why!_ " she added incredulously. "Better than anyone. Just a minute ago you were saying how _proud_ you are of me, and now suddenly my motives are suspect!"

"Yeah, okay. I'm sorry. I believe you," Kaz said. "About Debbie," she added. Allie groaned aloud. 

"But not about Bea, I assume?" Allie said, her annoyance fading a little. 

"Hmm, well … I've seen that look in your eye before. That glow to your cheek. Ingrid did a number on you. I don't want to see that happen again."

"It won't!" Allie protested. 

"Just remember. She's in prison. Maybe she'll get out sometime soon, maybe she won't. But _don't you dare give her your heart_ when she could be stuck in there for _twenty more years_ ," Kaz said firmly. Allie looked away to hide the sense of panic that surged through her at that thought. 

⁂

"Need some help Allie?" Debbie asked her as she stared into the fridge blankly. 

"Did Claire ask for a beer?" Allie asked, hopelessly muddled. 

"No, that was your dad. Claire's driving and asked for a coke. Look, I'll sort the drinks. You start the food."

"Thanks Deb." She headed back out to the grill and the gaggle of noisy family sitting around in folding chairs. Allie's head was all over the place. Everyone was here. Everyone who mattered to her, except Bea. Talk about the ghost at the feast. What Kaz had said was still playing in her mind. Josephine Pym would do her best to get Bea a short sentence, but what if there was nothing to be done? It would be a pleasure to have Deb live here; she would make sure she went to university; help her get a job, a home, when the time came. But could she visit Bea in prison every week if she got a life sentence? It felt like, in her heart, she had already signed up for that. Not that Bea seemed to expect it, but Allie couldn't imagine stopping now. 

Her dad was hovering around the grill.

"Shall I get this going Al?" he asked. 

"Sure. Just try not to take your eyebrows off this time …"

"Huh. That old grill was clearly faulty …" he said defensively.

"Whatever you say Dad." This was an old pattern of call and response, essentially empty of content, but comforting in its familiarity. 

"Here's your beer Mr Novak," Debbie put in, holding out a bottle. 

"Call me Seb, for Christ's sake," he replied, taking a long pull of beer. "Thank goodness for you, Debbie Dearest. A person could die of thirst around here." He winked at her. Debbie smiled up at him before turning in time to catch Allie's eye roll.

The afternoon went smoothly, Kaz managed not to pick a fight with anyone for a change, a fact that Allie put down to her being on her best behaviour for Debbie's sake. Other than that everyone stuck to their strengths: Robbie hustled about with bowls and serving plates; Joe nattered on to Debbie about his uni course; Seb interrogated Claire about the goings on at the city council; and Freddo simply reclined in the hammock with Nova in his lap and a beer in his hand.

"Budge up bro," Allie told him, climbing in next to him and making the whole thing swing perilously. Nova looked alarmed, clearly thinking about jumping down until Allie soothed her with a hand.

"Careful Al. You'll tip us both out!"

"Do your lazy arse good!"

"Hey! The boat tours have been _really_ busy …"

"Yeah, right. Sitting on your arse all day, cruising around in the sun. Sounds horrible!" Freddo scoffed at her disparaging comments, his eyes catching on Debbie's slight form as she went inside with an empty serving bowl.

"How's she doing?" he asked quietly, gesturing at Debbie's retreating back with his bottle. Allie shrugged.

“I thought she was doing okay, but she’s been a bit quiet the last couple of days,” she replied, turning it over in her mind, the bottom dropping out of her stomach for a moment with sudden fear.

“It’s a lot,” he commented. Allie wasn’t sure if he meant it was a lot to take on or if what Debbie had been through and continued to go through was a lot. Either way he was right. She nodded. “But I like her,” he continued. “You picked a good one. And you’re doing a good job.” Allie reached over and ruffled his already chaotic hair.

“Thanks Frogface,” she told him.

⁂

“I hope that was okay for you Deb. They can be a bit much, all together like that.” Debbie shook her head and smiled. 

“No, it was fine.” She carried on arranging the plates in the dishwasher. After a moment she added, “I like your dad.” Allie nodded, unsurprised. Sebastian Novak was tall, white-haired and twinkle-eyed: he looked like a cookie-cutter grandfather. Allie, however, had more reason than anyone to know that he hadn't always been that way. But he would fit the father-shaped hole Debbie had in her life right now, and Allie believed that he would do okay at it. He had learned a lot of lessons in the last decade or so: this was his second chance and he knew better than to blow it. "And Joe was really friendly. Gave me loads of tips for what to look for when I choose my uni course."

"And is everything okay? You've seemed a little preoccupied lately.” Allie watched Debbie’s back stiffen.

“No. I’m good.”

“Hm,” Allie replied in a tone that she hoped would convey her disbelief. “Whatever it is, don’t leave it too long before you tell someone. If you don’t want to talk to me, tell your mum, or your therapist.” Debbie didn’t reply. “I mean it Debbie. Don’t let it fester. It won’t do you any good, believe me. When you feel ready to tell me, I’m here.” Debbie maintained her mulish silence. Allie sighed. She wasn’t ready to talk, and that was fair enough, but Allie would be ill at ease until Debbie told her what was going on.

⁂

After dropping Debbie off at school this morning Allie had driven home in a welter of excitement about her upcoming visit with Bea. Stopping at a red light she wiped her damp hands on her thighs and changed stations on the radio, looking for some music. Pausing on some acoustic guitar track she quickly pulled away as the light changed to green. It was a melancholy tune: just the sad sounding guitar and a man’s voice: something about missing someone. And then a few lines ambushed her, leaping out from the rest of the song, the meaning chiming with her on an almost cellular level:

_My mind’s distracted and diffused,_

_My thoughts are many miles away,_

_They lie with you when you’re asleep,_

_And kiss you when you start your day._

And that’s when she knew. It was as though a curtain had parted and she could suddenly see her own feelings for what they were. Her heart pounded both in fear and excitement. She recalled how, every night these past couple of weeks, she had switched off her light and found herself staring at the illuminated digits on her bedside clock. Somehow it often seemed to be 22:22, and this had unconsciously become “ _Bea time_ ”: a time when she allowed herself to go over her mental images of Bea; to recall what she had said and how she had looked; to remember how it had felt to hold her, briefly, in her arms, to feel her tremble and to know the answering tremble of her own self. And in the morning Bea was still there, her first thought when she awoke, as though they had been together through all the intervening hours. It was terrible and wonderful, she thought to herself: wonderful because she had fallen in love, terrible because it was a love that seemed to have no future.

 **… And now it’s time for lights out …** Allie read. **I had better finish here so that this can get in the post to you tomorrow. Please give my love to Debbie. I look forward to seeing you both at your next visits.**

**Best wishes, Bea**

Allie sighed and folded the letter away. It was time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics are from "Kathy's Song" by Simon and Garfunkel.


	8. "What Frightened You, Fred?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some emotional knots begin to become unpicked but others remain impenetrable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. Hope you are well. If the chapter title seems mystifying, it's another from Alfred Hitchcock presents and has a certain appropriateness, which will hopefully become clear. Enjoy.

"Smith! Get a mop and clean that up." Bea's head came up. _Shit. Why me_? She hesitated for a moment. 

"I've got a visit in a minute, Mr Jackson," she said, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. The thought that Allie might be kept waiting, might think she didn’t want to see her made her feel a little queasy.

"It'll only take _a minute_ ," he replied, immovable. Well, he was in a pissy mood today. Resigned, she sped off to find a cleaning cart. The sooner she could get this over with the sooner she could get to the visitor's room. "Holt, give her a hand," she heard him add as she rounded the corner.

 _What the hell_? He had a heart, Mr Jackson. He was kinder than they had any right to expect, given what had happened to his wife. But now he had a real thing against Jacs. The police couldn't prove who had killed Mrs Jackson, but Mr Jackson had his own theory and now he rode Jacs Holt whenever he got the chance. Now he had dropped Bea in it with Jacs. If she thought it was her fault that she had been assigned this crap duty, she could take it out on Bea. Jacs acted like a queenly matriarch, operating the steam press with calm assurance despite having lost much of her power: mopping up vomit spewed by a newbie was not her style. Besides, the balance of power between Jacs and Franky was delicate. If Jacs tried something Bea was in a no-win position. If she stood up to her again Franky would be forced to back her up and violence could easily erupt. If she let Holt walk all over her, Franky's crew looked weak, which could prompt an attempt to grab power back. If it came to blows - well, Bea couldn't afford any black marks against her name, Ms Pym had made that clear. It was like walking a tightrope with a crocodile pit on one side and a chasm of fire on the other. All she could do was keep her balance. It was a pressure that she had tried to explain to the forensic psychologist at their first session.

⁂

"It's important that I can give the court an account of your mental state both before and during the … event that led you here," Dr Westfall said. "But I would be negligent in my duty if I didn't also try to help you process what happened to you and what actions _you_ took. And … how you're handling being in prison and being separated from your daughter." The psychologist looked at her, perhaps waiting for a response. Bea just nodded hastily, knowing that her participation was required but unable to find her voice. "Are you satisfied that all of those areas will be up for discussion during our sessions?" Dr Westfall looked at her expectantly. Her gaze was very direct, but also full of kindness. Bea nodded again. "I can't help but notice that you haven't spoken yet. Do you have trouble expressing yourself, Bea?" she asked. Bea's heart pounded. It was a blunt question, asked sympathetically, but it troubled some element of her character that Bea felt lay in such an undisturbed corner of her psyche that it would require breaking a taboo to answer it.

"Who _doesn't_ have trouble expressing themselves?" she replied gruffly. 

"That's a deflection," the psychologist replied baldly. "I'm asking about _you_." Bea's hands writhed in her lap.

"I guess," she conceded.

"Who could you talk to, if you felt like you needed to express yourself?" Bea stifled a shrug and forced herself to really think about it. Not Debbie, she had enough to cope with. Maybe Allie, in time.

"Liz, I suppose. She's the peer worker," Bea finally said. Only, it wasn't because she was the peer worker but because Liz wouldn't judge, whatever you told her. Dr Westfall nodded. 

"That's good. Having someone to talk to is important. What about other forms of expression? Do you get angry? Can you cry?" Bea thought about the last time she had cried, and blushed hard. It was a couple of weeks ago. She'd had a deeply uncomfortable conversation with Liz, during which Liz had told her that there would be nothing wrong with making herself feel good. Later that night, alone in her room, she had touched herself and the physical release had unblocked something inside her that allowed her to weep for the first time in an age. She looked up to find Dr Westfall looking at her with curiosity. 

"I get angry all the time," Bea replied, avoiding the subject of crying. "This place is impossible. There are some women in here who seem to go out of their way to push other people's buttons. Maybe they can't help it. Some are desperate, some are bored, but it can be life and death in here. You could accidentally piss someone off in the breakfast queue only for them to try and shiv you in the showers the next day." Dr Westfall nodded and made some notes. 

"You describe this situation as provoking anger. Is there any other emotion that might be felt by someone in the situation you describe? Take your time and think about it." Bea thought, but it was hard to concentrate when the doctor was looking at her like that. _Frustration_ ? _Despair_ ? _Injustice_?

"I don't know. Maybe you would feel it was unfair that you had been put in that position?" Dr Westfall nodded again. 

"Do you feel that? Like you're here unfairly?"

"I know what I did. I killed Harry and that's against the law. But it's unfair that prison isn't just about doing your time. That there's all this other crap, sorry, _stuff_ to deal with." Dr Westfall smiled. 

"It's okay. You can say crap. So, anger and injustice. Anything else? Think back to when you first arrived here." Bea thought. _Disgust_. _Sadness_. _Regret_. The fear of Debbie being alone in the world. The fear of being hurt, being forgotten. 

"Fear," she said, wondering how she had hidden the knowledge of that fear from herself. 

"Fear," the psychologist confirmed. "And how do you think those two emotions, anger and fear, might have interrelated in your life?" Bea pondered this for a while. 

"I don't know," she finally admitted in frustration. Dr Westfall gave her a sympathetic look. 

"That's okay. It's early days. You've done good work. We'll leave that for today. Perhaps by our next session the answer will have come to you. For the rest of our time I would like to move on to your relationship with your husband." Bea’s stomach sloshed anxiously.

⁂

It was anger that was dominant right now. 

"Got a visitor coming in, Bea?" Jacs asked in that fakely sweet way she had. "Is it your daughter? The lovely Debbie?"

How did Jacs even know Debbie's name? Bea would give anything for Debbie to remain safely anonymous from this poisonous bitch. She opted not to put her straight, furiously swabbing the floor instead. 

"You should speak when you're spoken to, Bea. It's only polite," Jacs continued. The exaggeratedly civilized tone was intended to make her quail, Bea knew, but there was no way she would give her the satisfaction. Jacs continued to speak as though they were having a pleasant conversation. "I have a visitor of my own coming tomorrow. Call by my unit later. You can do my hair. Got to look my best for Vinnie."

Was this woman for real? Did she really expect Bea to just walk into the enemy camp? Perhaps she needed reminding where her allegiances lay.

"Sorry Jacs, I'm trimming Franky's hair later. And then Boomer asked me to see what I could do with hers, so I don't think I can fit you in today. Vinnie will just have to take you as he finds you," she smirked. 

"Trimming Francesca's hair won't improve the way that dirty little clitty-licker looks," Jacs hissed viciously. "We mothers should stick together, Bea," she added with breathtaking insincerity. Bea silently scoffed at the thought that she and Jacs had anything in common.

"Some other time," Bea said, matching her tone. Jacs mean little eyes grew hard.

"You want to think carefully about the friends you choose, Bea. It's easy to get it wrong in here. You can think you're coping, even comfortable. Riding high. And then suddenly, you're at rock bottom. It doesn't take much." Bea stared at her. That sounded like a threat. Did Jacs still have the power to make good on it? Before Bea could reply, Mr Jackson reappeared. 

"Smith, leave that. Your visitor's here. Holt will finish up, won't you Holt?"

"Of course, Mr Jackson," Jacs replied in her most reasonable tone. "Say hello to Debbie from me," she added, making Bea's knuckles clench reflexively as a cold wash of fear swept down her back. _Debbie_. Had she been quite herself at her last visit?

⁂

"Hi Mum," Debbie said, walking into her arms. She looked pale.

"Hi baby," Bea murmured into her cloud of curls. “I missed you.” She tightened her arms around her ribs. Too skinny. She squeezed a little, rocked her from side to side, but whether for her own comfort or Debbie's she wasn't sure. 

"Mum! I can't breathe," she gasped in protest. Bea loosened her grip a little but couldn't let go just yet.

"Allie's not feeding you properly," she grumbled into Debbie's ear. A burst of laughter. 

"Of course she is," Debbie declared, holding her mother at arm's length. "You should have seen my breakfast. Fruit and yoghurt. Cereal. Pancakes. I practically waddled to the bus."

"Hm," Bea replied, unconvinced. They sat down. "Tell me stuff," she commanded. "What's been going on?"

“You first.” So Bea told her about the latest from her lawyer and sketched out an easy-to-swallow version of her session with Dr Westfall.

⁂

“And to what would you ascribe your low self-confidence?” Bea tried to think. The pounding of her heart and the twisting of her guts were distracting. If she puked on the carpet would this nightmare be over?

“I … uh, I guess that Harry made me feel like I wasn’t good enough.”

“How would he do that?”

“The way he would look at me. The things he would call me.”

“Can you tell me some of the things he would call you?” Bea’s freezing hands started to sweat. “I know this is difficult. Take your time. Close your eyes, if that helps.” Bea closed her eyes and leant back. She started to list them off, doing her best to pretend that they were just words. Sticks and stones, right?

“Useless, ugly, worthless … um, bitch, repulsive, bad mother.” She took a breath, opened her eyes and looked at the doctor directly. “Slut, whore, dyke, cunt, cock tease, revolting, stupid, frigid, prudish … lazy … pointless …” Bea dried up, couldn’t think of any others and actually, it all sounded ridiculous when listed like that. She started to laugh. Who could possibly believe all that?

“Why are you laughing?” Dr Westfall asked calmly, still writing.

“Because I can’t believe I fell for it! Now that I've listed them I can hear how ridiculous it all is. All of those things are meant to be me. Some of them don’t make any sense, some contradict themselves …”

“I’m glad you can see the funny side. But the fact remains that those words affected you, and I’d be surprised if they didn’t continue to affect you in the future. Can you estimate the amount of your marriage in which your husband called you names like these?”

“Well, there was a brief period before Debbie was born. And he was weirdly nice to me for a while after he cut me with a bottle. About ninety percent,” she concluded. She sobered. _Ninety percent of seventeen years_. She couldn’t work out an exact figure for that but it was a long time. A waste of time. All of her youth, essentially. “God, I’m such an idiot!”

“Why do you say that?”

“For staying. I should have left the first time he hit me.” The psychologist was quiet for a moment.

“Do you know that on average a woman in an abusive relationship suffers fifty incidents of abuse before getting help?” Bea’s eyebrows shot up. _Christ_. “Does it help you to know that?”

“I suppose.”

“Why?”

“I thought I was unusual for putting up with it for so long. Unusually weak …”

“Some women never get help. Some women die.” Dr Westfall gave her a moment to let that sink in. “How do you feel about that?”

“I thought I was going to die a few times. If it hadn’t been for Debbie I wouldn’t have minded. Slipping away. It would have been easy.”

“And now?”

“I’m glad to be still alive, now that I know Debbie’s okay and we’ll never have to put up with Harry again. Now that there’s a sliver of hope, however slim, that I won’t spend my whole life in here.”

⁂

“I guess they’ll want to speak with me at some point,” Debbie said, her eyes darting around Bea’s face. Bea took her hand.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Debbie looked furious.

“Of course I want to! You're not going to try and stop me are you?"

"No, I won't stop you. But don't do it if it's more than you can manage. It won't be easy, baby," Bea told her carefully. 

"Easier than you staying in here when I could have helped get you out."

"What does Allie have to say about it?"

"Not much. She said I should think about it. And that, if I need to, I should talk to my therapist, or her, about how it might affect me."

"Sounds sensible." They were quiet for a moment.

"I met Allie's family," Debbie blurted out, looking more animated than she had all visit. 

"Oh yeah?" Bea asked, curious. "What are they like?"

"Really nice. We had a cook out in the backyard. Allie’s dad did the grilling. Her brothers were there; her sister-in-law Claire, plus Kaz who, I’m not sure, must be a family friend or distant cousin or something. Freddo and Joe look so like Allie it’s ridiculous but Robbie, he’s the oldest of the brothers, he’s dark haired and a different build.” Bea tried to imagine these young men who looked like Allie.

“Allie said she thought you would get along with … Joe, I think it was. The youngest one?” Debbie nodded happily.

“Yeah. Or _Towser_ as Allie calls him. He’s studying pharmacy at Monash and he was telling me all about it.”

“Pharmacy, wow. He must be smart.” Debbie nodded vigorously.

“Definitely. But he said it’s more about putting the hours in than anything.” Bea smiled to see the light of ambition in her daughter’s eyes. If rubbing shoulders with Allie’s family inspired Debbie to aim high then she was all for it. “I’m meeting him next week so that he can show me the campus.” And just like that Bea felt a knot inside herself loosen. All these extra people looking out for Debbie, guiding her, there for her to call on if needed. She still wanted to get out of here as badly as ever but, in the meantime, Debbie had her safety net.

⁂

_Dear Bea,_

_All those thank yous you sent were unnecessary. It’s me who should be thanking you._ _Thank you so much for writing to me - I wasn’t sure if you would._ _Thank you for allowing me to look after Debbie. I feel like you have given me your blessing - that sounds stupid, but I hope you will know what I mean._ _Thank you for encouraging me to introduce Debbie to the Novak clan - they’re a motley bunch and I hope you don’t live to regret it!_

_On a serious note I must disillusion you about my family. We are most definitely “screwed up” as you put it, or have been in the past. Maybe we are mostly unscrewed now (or should that be unhinged!) but we are not the perfect family you might like to imagine. After our mum died my dad was pretty useless. He didn’t cope well with his grief and four children to raise; children who were also grieving, I might add. Everything went wildly awry for a few years but I think all of us came out of it better and stronger, if bearing a few scars and wounds that are slow to heal. I’ll tell you the whole story sometime but, for now, I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea. Debbie is safe with us but we are far from perfect._

_You say that your session with the psychologist made you think. I imagine that some of those thoughts are painful and unwelcome. And I know she is mostly there to gather evidence for your trial, but do you think that talking to her might actually help you? I don’t want to suggest that you are in dire need of psychological counselling, but you have been through a lot, the half of which I have no idea about, I know, though perhaps you will trust me with some of those experiences in time. I hope it doesn't sound overly familiar to say that I have seen and recognised your incredible strength. But please don’t be offended if I say that there are also other things that I have seen: disappointment, anger, doubt and maybe even shame. And I want so much for you to understand that you shouldn't be ashamed. I will say what I believe wholeheartedly: Bea, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Perhaps, through talking with this psychologist you can come to believe it for yourself._

_Love, Allie_

⁂

Bea followed along behind Mr Jackson, allowing the message of hope that Allie had gifted her to begin to smooth out the anxiety that Jacs's comments had created. Taking her place in the visitor's room she began scanning the queue of visitors as they entered, on the lookout for a blonde head and smiling eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the pop psychology - obviously I have no training in this area.  
> Sorry if you found this chapter frustrating, but I am already working on the next chapter, and, rest assured, Bea and Allie will be together again.


	9. "Spellbound"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an attachment is deepened and a knot comes undone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for another visit. Enjoy.

Bea craned her neck. A dozen people had filed in, but none of them was Allie. Finally, there she was at the end of the queue looking a little flushed and wild-eyed. Bea stood up and waved one hand to catch her attention. When Allie’s gaze snagged on Bea’s, her mouth curled into a smile and, unless Bea was imagining it, a spark lit her eyes. Unable to look away, Bea watched her weave her way across the room. When Allie stopped in front of her Bea allowed herself to give in to a sudden impulse. Circling Allie around the waist with one arm she drew her into a hug, briefly resting the side of her face against Allie’s. Clearly she had taken Allie by surprise because, just as Bea was drawing back, Allie was raising her arms to reciprocate. Feeling awkward and stupid she sat down abruptly to avoid any further misunderstandings.

When Bea managed to collect herself, she looked back at Allie’s face to see her giving her a knowing smile. It was a smile that, on anyone else, might look superior, but on Allie, Bea could see that it was laced with both understanding and kindness. Bea smiled ruefully in return believing that Allie would catch her feeling.

“That was nice,” Allie murmured, still beaming. Bea didn’t know what to say and could feel her face heating up as her embarrassment at her social failure continued to trouble her. "I was thinking it would be another couple of visits before you instigated a hug," Allie said. "I'll be ready next time," she added with a suggestive twinkle in her eye. Bea scoffed at her self-possession.

"What makes you think that there'll be a next time?" she said, hoping to take her down a peg. Allie appeared unrepentant. 

"Because I get it, Bea. You like me," she replied. She was smiling, shooting the breeze, having some fun, so Bea played along.

"Well, I can hardly seem to get rid of you. Here I am in one of the most inaccessible places in Melbourne but you still keep showing up, writing me letters … it's like having my own stalker." As soon as she'd said it she regretted it. Allie's face went very white, then very red. Her eyes skittered off around the room whilst her lips opened as though to respond but no sound came out. Feeling as though she was watching a kitten drowning in a pond, Bea cast around for a branch to offer. "A very nice stalker, obv … obviously," she stammered. "One I wouldn't want to stay away …" Allie chuckled and waved her hand dismissively. 

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t deal it out if I can’t take it.” She swallowed and met Bea’s gaze squarely. “I forgot that you can be like that.” Bea pretended to be affronted.

“Can't think what you mean,” she said. She aimed for an arch tone but inside her stomach was shrinking with dread at what the reply might be.

“The forecast is for … mostly shy, with occasional bursts of cheekiness,” Allie said, gesturing at an invisible weather map. “Fortunately, there’s no cold front in sight, and the sun is due to come out at any minute …” Allie looked at her expectantly, eyebrows raised. Bea pursed her lips, doing her best to rein in the smile that Allie’s performance had ignited in her belly and that was now beginning to spread through her whole body. “And … there it is!” Allie said triumphantly as Bea finally gave in and smiled.

⁂

Just at the moment that Allie was due to enter the visitor’s room, she'd had a sudden attack of doubt. Slipping out of the line of visitors, she headed back the way she had come. It felt different visiting Bea, now that she had an understanding that what she was feeling wasn’t just a crush. How could she face her with this new realisation? The knowledge was still raw. It felt so close to her surface that she felt sure that Bea would sense it immediately. And if she did, what would she think? Would she be repelled? Disappointed, maybe, that Allie had ruined things, complicated things. And if she didn’t notice straight away how, in good conscience, could Allie pretend that nothing was different? It was wrong, surely, to sit there thirsting for her, drinking in the pleasure of being with her when, if she knew, she would most likely recoil from her. 

“Miss? _Miss_?” It was one of the guards. “Do you want me to find someone to escort you back to reception?” Allie looked at him for a moment in confusion, before realising that she had been pacing up and down the waiting room whilst the other visitors had nearly all disappeared into the visitor’s room. Despite her misgivings Allie knew herself well enough to know that she was not prepared to give up on the pleasure of a visit with Bea.

“No, no. I’m good,” she muttered, rejoining the queue behind the last visitor.

Entering the room she looked around, unable to find Bea for a moment. But once she did her heart leapt up at the sight. Seeing her satisfied a craving that had been running along in the background of her consciousness since last week. Her doubts vanished. She couldn’t give this up for anything, no matter what happened. Nobody minded being loved, after all. She would just work very hard to be appropriate.

But that resolution was almost immediately countermanded by her treacherous body. Her heart thumped and her skin tingled as Bea did the unthinkable and gave her a hug. True, it was, in typical Bea style, blink-or-you’ll-miss-it brief; awkwardly one-armed and badly timed. But it happened. And Bea instigated it. Allie sat down, almost missing the chair. The skin on her cheek was distractingly more alive than any other part of her. When Bea’s soft cheek had momentarily lain against her own it had felt as if every molecule had jumped up, eager to meet Bea’s skin, and that even now they were excitedly moving around, elated at that brief contact. 

Bea was clearly mortified by what she took to be a faux pas. Allie felt for her. To always be so ready to find fault with yourself must be exhausting. She smiled at her to let her know that she didn't find her in the least bit ridiculous, talked to her and joked about to put her at ease until suddenly she heard the word _stalker_ and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. Was that how Bea saw her? As someone who had muscled in on her and Debbie’s lives? Perhaps that was what she was: pathetically obsessed with someone who had no interest in her. But as Bea frantically backpedalled, presumably having noticed Allie’s reaction, sense returned. It was a throwaway comment not intended to wound, and her heart rate began to return to normal. A few more jokey comments and she was back on solid ground again.

⁂

Allie cleared her throat. “Did Debbie mention about meeting the family on Sunday?” she asked, her expression a little less confident than usual. Bea nodded.

“She told me all about it,” Bea replied. She wondered if Allie was worried that Debbie hadn’t liked them, or if she was more concerned that Bea was secretly unhappy that her affections might be usurped. She would bet on the latter and so she said, “She liked them, I could tell, but beyond that it’s reassuring for me to know that she has not one but …” she did a quick calculation, “six Novaks looking out for her.”

“Seven, if you count the cat …”

“Ah yes, Nova Novak. Only you could name your cat after yourself,” Bea teased. Allie’s eyebrows shot up.

“Is that what you thought? Well, I suppose it would seem that way,” she said thoughtfully. “But Nova is named after Nova Pilbeam … who you’ve probably never heard of …” Bea couldn’t deny it.

“Who’s Nova Pilbeam?”

“An English actress from the thirties and forties. I really liked her … There was a black and white film I caught her in on TV late one night when I was a teenager and, well, ever since then it’s been one of my favourites. Anyway, when I first got Nova, her little pointed kitten face reminded me of Nova Pilbeam and the rest is, as they say, history.”

“So you’re not a total egomaniac after all …”

“I didn’t say _that_ ,” Allie protested with a smile. “It was good to get the family all together,” she added in a more serious tone. “We all have stuff going on, work commitments, Debbie …”

“I always mean to ask you,” Bea interrupted. “What you do for work. Besides looking after my daughter, I mean.” Allie groaned.

“I’m one of those annoying people,” she said. Bea scoffed.

“What do you mean? Born with a silver spoon? Don’t need to work?” Allie laughed.

“If only. No. One of those annoying people who _works from home_.” She made air quotes with her fingers as she said this.

“Why would that be annoying?”

“I just think it must be annoying to hear that if you have to go to a factory or office every day. Or a hair salon.” Bea nodded, though she didn't feel in the least annoyed.

“So what is it you _do_ from home?”

“I’m a freelance copy editor and indexer. I used to work at a publisher’s but I left about two years ago. It works better this way, with the fostering …”

“I’ve no idea what copy editing and indexing involves …” Bea admitted. Was there no end to her ignorance? But Allie just smiled.

“No reason why you would. The copy editing is basically reading and tidying up the proof, checking with the author about inconsistencies and stuff. The indexing I’m kind of new to, but I really like it. It makes me think more … _rigorously_. I find the attention to detail kind of soothing. And then, at the end of it, there’s a book and I’ve played a small part in making it a better book - more readable, more useful.” Allie had become quite animated whilst describing her professional life. Bea was surprised. She had assumed that all of her passion was ploughed into her fostering.

“What kinds of books do you work on?”

“Textbooks, history books, biographies mostly. They’re the specialities of the publishers I work with. Interesting stuff. You learn all kinds of things … ”

“I bet …” Bea felt like sinking into the ground. Her own meagre accomplishments as a hair stylist seemed more modest than ever.

“Good for that pub quiz but not much else,” Allie continued, bursting her own bubble. Bea’s eyes flashed up to Allie’s face to find her regarding her thoughtfully. Once again, it seemed, she had divined Bea’s insecurities and done what she could to mitigate them. Bea blushed to be so transparent. She glared at the table top. To the left of her field of vision was Allie’s long jean-clad thigh. The denim had worn through at the knee leaving a strip of horizontal threads through which Bea could glimpse her lightly tanned skin. They must be a favourite pair, Bea reflected, to be worn so thin and soft. She had had favourite jeans like that herself, and knew exactly how that denim would feel under her palm: so soft, almost like peach-fuzz … or skin. She blushed.

⁂

Allie was charmed afresh. Could Bea get any more adorable? First she tried to save her from the stalker comment and then she reassured her about Debbie meeting the family. Even her insecurities, which should have been a total turn off, were attractive. And now she was blushing like a teenager on a first date. What was _that_ about? Allie hardly cared because the way it made her feel … It was like being high multiplied by some enormous number that she couldn't even think of.

Ducking her head Allie looked at Bea's burning cheeks and tried to meet her furtive gaze. Her eyes were dark and liquid like a timid arboreal creature looking out from the canopy. Allie could wish for nothing more than to gain her trust but Bea's eyes would settle nowhere for more than a moment.

Allie dropped her eyes to give her some respite but this time her attention was arrested by the motion of Bea's leg as it jigged up and down with a kind of frantic anxiety. Allie admired the crest of muscle she could see running along the top of her thigh beneath her uniform, before, without much consideration, dropping her hand to rest lightly upon it. The shuttling motion died instantly as though a string had been cut. The negative tension in Bea's whole body was palpable. _Shit_. She hastily lifted her hand. 

"Sorry …"

"Sorry …" Allie grimaced at their awkward duet. "You just seemed a bit jumpy," Allie tried to explain. "I didn't mean to …"

"It's fine," Bea was brushing it off as nothing, so that Allie had no choice but to retreat. "So, uh, Debbie seemed good?" Bea ventured, in a way that closed down any exploration of what had provoked her anxiety. Allie nodded.

"Studying hard. Mastering the swing quaver. Eating. Texting. The usual."

She would not say anything about her concerns for Debbie, not yet. She didn't have enough information. It might be nothing and worry her unnecessarily. She prayed that Bea wouldn't notice that she was employing some sleight of hand with her brevity and a sudden change of conversational direction.

"What's new in here Bea?" she asked, leaning forward confidentially. "Who's been confined to solitary? Which guard is on the take?" It was an attempt at levity but Bea huffed derisively and shook her head. 

"Do you mean who's in the slot? Which screws are bent?" Allie wasn't expecting her salvo to be returned so roughly, and her head buzzed with surprise. It was as if, by pointing out her ignorance of prison slang, Bea had put her firmly in her place: _outsider_ ; _innocent_. This, she thought, is where our two worlds mismatch most noticeably. Allie was desperate to understand what it was like in here for Bea, but at the same time wondered if she could accept the bitter truth. Would Bea actually tell her what it was really like or, if she did, could words even adequately describe it?

"Sorry …" Allie said, abashed. "I shouldn't make light of it. I'm sure it's terrible." Bea sighed and wiped her hand over her face, drawing back her anger. 

"No, it's okay. It's not all like that. Most of it's just mundane … eat, sleep, work … you know. But then something kicks off … and your adrenaline goes sky high. Or someone says something and you wonder if they've got it in for you." Allie nodded her understanding. She had noticed that Bea was speaking in the second person now. Was this how she distanced herself from her fear? "Just before this visit, in fact," Bea continued in a low tone, "Jacs Holt was being weird. Asking about Debbie. Wanted me to do her hair." She shook her head, mystified. 

"Who is she, this Holt woman?" Allie asked, the hairs on the back of her neck bristling when Debbie's name was mentioned. 

"The top dog. Kinda. But not really, since the riot. Franky has more influence now. Just needs to make the final move," Bea explained. 

"So you're enemies?" Allie asked. Bea laughed.

"I'd be perfectly happy to have nothing to do with her, but she seems to have a problem with me. Plus I'm in Franky's crew … so, yeah, _enemies_ , I suppose."

"Can't you stay out of her way?" Allie asked, panicked, hardly bothering to mask her fear. Bea's eyes became gentle.

"I can try." And she smiled reassuringly. Allie's heart drummed hard. _Fuck_. That smile, those eyes … she was going down, drowning, overwhelmed with love and fear.

⁂

Bea was kicking herself. She should never have said anything about Jacs: not only was it none of Allie's concern but now it looked like Allie would worry about it. More than Bea herself. And it wasn't like Allie could do anything about it. It was an inside matter, and Allie was on the outside. 

"Allie," she said, gathering up her scattered attention. When Allie looked at her, Bea was surprised to see tears in her eyes. The thread of thought she had been following was suddenly gone. She stared at her empty hands in surprise. "Don't say anything to Debbie." Her voice came out more harshly than she had intended.

"Of course not," Allie replied unhesitatingly. 

"And don't worry about it. I can handle it," she added more gently. Allie nodded. 

"I know." It was a vote of confidence and it made Bea feel stronger, taller, _better_ for a moment. But then the feeling was gone. Allie _didn't_ know. She had never seen her beaten down and cowering, covered with bruises and blood. _Weak, so weak_ came the familiar refrain. The shame rushed in. Allie's warm fingers slipped into her hand and pressed her palm. "Don't," she said quietly. "The past is a foreign country. You can leave it behind. Here and now things are different." Allie's thumb circled over the backs of her fingers, over her knuckles, so tenderly, making Bea's eyes prick. "You're smart. You have the best motivation there is to survive this and get out of here. Debbie is counting on you." Bea remembered what Allie had written in her letter about how Dr Westfall could help her. She nodded. She had more support now than she'd ever had before. Allie wanted her to leave her shame behind; Dr Westfall wanted her to understand _something_ about the relationship between fear and anger. "You're strong," Allie was saying. "But I know you must be afraid even if you'd rather not show it." Bea felt her lids flutter closed. The sound of Allie's voice and the movement of Allie's hand on hers were hypnotic. "You're going to be smart about this, I know. There are other ways out than anger." Bea's eyes flashed open. _Of course._

⁂

Bea opened her eyes and looked directly into Allie's. Her pupils were wide and Allie had the peculiar sensation of being able to see right inside another's being. Something was happening to Bea; cogs had turned and meshed, a solution, to _something_ , had been found. But better than anything, Bea's face was open in a way Allie had never seen before. And when she smiled Allie felt something turn in her chest, like the click of a mechanism. It was done; there was no turning back. The spell was complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The film Allie refers to is "Young and Innocent" (1937). Its plot concerns a man trying to clear his name of a murder charge while aided by the young heroine (Nova Pilbeam). Some other elements from the film may or may not be noticed in this story! (I leave it up to you to look into it or not, as you see fit.)


	10. "Shadow of a Doubt"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which that which has been in the shadows emerges into the light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. I hope you are all well. Here's the next chapter.

_Keep it in your pants this time Novak. How hard can it be_? Allie groaned quietly. _Very hard. Not to mention very wet._ She was sitting in her car outside the prison giving herself a pep talk before her visit with Bea. She knew she had been too tactile with her last week and made a new resolution to keep her hands to herself. She was still annoyed with herself for touching Bea’s leg. Her impulse to comfort had bypassed her brain on that occasion. She would do better.

It had been a tough week. Had there been a single moment since she had hugged Bea goodbye last week when she hadn't been wanting her? Maybe one or two, because her sudden horniness was not the only problem to rear its head in the last few days, so to speak. But still … two years of zero action and zero interest and then suddenly this.

The problem was that, now she knew what it felt like to have Bea step into her arms, her mind wanted that feeling all the time. Almost every night this week she had gone to bed early, eager to be alone with her thoughts. Restless and impatient, she would glare at her clock, willing the digits to change. 22:22. She would close her eyes in relief and anticipation and send her mind out into the darkness, winging across the space between them. Once over the prison her consciousness plunged, peregrine like, penetrating brick and stone as easily as air until it alighted in Bea’s room. She had no knowledge of what Bea's room, or cell, at Wentworth looked like, except for the photos of Debbie she had sent herself. So, she started there; picturing them pinned to a blank wall. Then she let her imagination loose. Bars or curtains at the window? _Curtains_. A rug on the floor? _Probably_ _not_. Narrow bunk? _Check._ In the dim light, Allie’s shadowy self stooped and spread a soft blanket over the sleeping form she found there; admired the hair splayed across the pillow. 

Nestling deeper into her own pillow, Allie wrapped her arms around herself. Behind her lids she was now in the bunk with Bea. She burrowed her face into that extravagant mane of curls until she found the down at the nape of her neck, breathing in her scent. Curled against Bea’s back, they fitted together as neatly as two feathers in a bird’s wing. With this perfect contact Allie felt that she knew the true meaning of peace for the first time in her life. She held her close, knowing that she was the one who could keep Bea’s loneliness and fear at bay. She squeezed her gently, not enough to wake her, and even though she knew she was sleeping, whispered, "I love you." And just like that she fell asleep. 

It was always a shock to awake in her own bed the next morning with a sweet ache in the pit of her stomach. She was sure that she had spent the whole night holding Bea while she slept but something about awakening catapulted her back through the ether into her own home, and her heavy lids would leak out a few disappointed tears. But on Saturday she had fallen back to sleep and dreamt that she had woken in Bea's bunk in the pale light of early morning and kissed her sleeping cheek. That was the best morning.

⁂

**Dear Allie,**

**Sorry if I seemed a bit out of it when you left yesterday. I'm going to explain and I have to do it now before I change my mind. Something you said helped me make a connection, so I was a bit distracted and you deserve to know why. It was something that Dr Westfall asked me to think about. The connection between fear and anger. When you said that I should be smart not angry I realised that, although I have thought that I am angry for a long time, what I have actually been is scared. But because I couldn't accept being afraid I masked it with anger.**

**I have seen Dr Westfall this morning. She was pleased that I had worked it out. It's pretty common, apparently, for fear to be expressed as anger. Obviously I was afraid of Harry for a long time. Now he's the one thing I don't need to be afraid of anymore. But I'm still angry so I suppose I must still be afraid. Working all this out might take a while longer. Knowing what is behind my anger might be a start though.**

**I bet you didn't expect a therapy session when you opened the envelope! Thanks for the notepaper Allie. It's much nicer than that other stuff. The pages are so much larger though. I may struggle to find enough to fill them with …**

⁂

To Allie, Bea hadn't seemed so much distracted, as present and open to an unusual degree. When time had been called at the end of the visit they had both stood up and Allie had been prepared for an awkward dance as Bea tried to work out what to do. But instead Bea had stepped up to her, Allie had held her arms out and Bea had come to her as naturally as if they had been doing this all their lives. Allie had shivered deliciously to feel Bea's body press against hers in a replay of the previous week's embrace. Again their cheeks had rested together and Allie's body had reacted hectically, all pounding blood and heat, breath hard to come by. But Bea had been calm, had held her gently, if too briefly, and, when Allie looked into her face a moment later, she wore a serene smile.

Something Allie had said had seemingly prompted Bea’s breakthrough about fear and anger. She didn’t deserve any credit, that much she knew, but working through her emotions was obviously helping. The way she had been in those last few minutes was drastically different to the guarded, mostly silent and occasionally belligerent Bea that she had seen before. Not that she didn’t love moody Bea; she most definitely did - that was the Bea she had first fallen for; but the idea that there was a happier, calmer Bea emerging was exciting too. That there was a version of Bea that could open herself up to her like that - and look happy about it - gave Allie a scintilla of hope for the future. Maybe her love was not doomed after all.

Despite her desperate desire to see Bea this morning, she most definitely wasn’t looking forward to the conversation they were going to have to have. Allie sighed. All the good work that Bea was doing with Dr Westfall, all the progress she had so recently made could easily come undone. Allie knew that it would likely hit Bea hard. She would be worried, that was to be expected, but other emotions would also be in play: fear and its resultant anger, guilt, blame … Some of that blame was due to come Allie’s way. She knew to expect it, couldn’t deny that she deserved it, but dreaded it nonetheless. Debbie was young and naïve; Allie had no such excuse.

⁂

Allie chose her moment carefully. Debbie was lounging in the hammock with Nova in her lap, bare legs propped up, enjoying a bit of late afternoon sun. Allie poured her a glass of ginger ale, making sure to fill it right up, and took it out to her, putting it into her hand.

“Thanks,” Debbie said, looking a bit puzzled by the waitress service. Allie dragged a chair over and positioned it so that she was sitting beside her. Once Debbie had taken a sip of her drink, Allie began.

“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me what’s going on,” Allie gestured to Debbie’s phone which was lying in the hammock with her. Debbie got that uncomfortable look on her face; identical to the one Bea wore when Allie did something to attract attention. She hitched herself up as best she could in the hammock without spilling her drink, earning herself a warning look from Nova.

“What d’ya mean?” Debbie prevaricated, avoiding Allie’s eyes.

“Something on that phone has been bothering you. I wish you’d tell me what it was. Maybe I can help …” Debbie had tensed, was trying to get up, glass in one hand, phone in the other, cat swaying on her lap. Nova looked at her with disgust and extended her claws through the thin fabric of Debbie’s t-shirt. Allie knew this feline tactic well: the tips of her claws would scrape the tender skin of your belly just enough to ask the question, “Do you really want to disturb me?” Debbie subsided with a defeated sigh.

“It’s nothing, really …” she mumbled, still looking away.

“Hm. Tell me … and then I can judge if it’s nothing.” There was a long period of silence during which Debbie apparently gathered together the courage to explain what had been making her frown and sigh and purse her lips. Allie’s sense of dread increased with every second. If it was taking her this long to spit it out, it must be something serious.

“There’s this boy …” Debbie began. Allie exhaled with relief. _Boy trouble_. If that was all she was going to have to deal with … “ … well, he’s actually a bit older than a boy …” Allie sat up straighter.

“How much older?” she asked cautiously.

“He’s nineteen,” Debbie replied, glancing over at her. Allie kept her face as neutral as she could, though her heart was pounding in fear. This was evidently not someone from school and she'd had no idea that such a person even existed. Anything could have been going on. She was a terrible foster mother … She took a deep breath. She had to calm down and listen to what Debbie had to say.

“And you like him? This boy?” Allie asked.

“I did at first. I thought we had a lot in common. He was really kind and helpful at first, but then it got a bit weird.”

“Weird how?” Allie asked gruffly.

“He wanted me to smoke weed and I didn’t want to. At first he was cool with that but then he started saying I was no fun, so I stopped answering his messages,” Debbie explained. Allie nodded.

“That sounds like a sensible decision,” Allie said.

“But then he apologised and we started messaging again and it was all going really well. And then last week he offered to drive me to the prison to visit mum … and I said yes.” Allie closed her eyes for a moment. She imagined Debbie alone in a car with a strange young man. _Shit, shit, shit_. When she opened her eyes again Debbie was looking at her apologetically. “I know I said I was getting the bus,” she began fearfully. Allie held up her hand.

“We’ll come to that. For now, carry on with what you were saying.”

“After the visit he drove me home. Except he said he had to stop off at work first to pick something up. So he drove to the garage where he works and we went up to the office. But once we were up there he started lounging around on the couch, chatting. He obviously wanted me to stay but something about the whole thing was making me nervous so I told him I just wanted to go home. Then he started in on me being boring so I sat down with him on the couch for a bit …” Debbie trailed off. Allie thought she had a fair idea of what they had been doing on the couch, and it wasn’t chatting.

“What happened next?”

“He was being really sweet. He made us a cup of tea … but then he got this stuff out of a drawer. I didn’t even know what it was at first,” Debbie admitted, looking embarrassed. “It was this tubing … and then I saw the needle … and no way did I want to do that. And I told him that. And he said it was cool. But then he went on and on about how amazing it was; how I hadn’t really lived until I’d felt that high. And I could feel myself starting to think about it, to wonder if he was right. To wonder what it would be like to just agree … but then I caught this look on his face. A kind of _sneer_. It was just how my dad used to look at my mum sometimes. And I realised … my God! If I do this, history is going to repeat itself. I’ll be in a dependent relationship with someone who despises me and controls me! Never mind the drugs …” Debbie’s face had begun to crumple as she described the scene in the office, but by this point she was all out sobbing. Allie took the glass of ginger ale off her, scooped her accomplice out of Debbie’s lap onto the ground and tipped the weeping girl out of the hammock into her arms.

“It’s okay Debbie. You did well, really well. I’m going to take care of this …”

“Please … don’t tell my mum …”

⁂

**… Do you remember what I was telling you about the cat that used to come into our garden? I never got to the end of that story and I want to tell you now Allie. Harry told me to find out who the owners of the cat were so that he could make them stop it from coming onto our property. But it wasn’t about that. It was about keeping the cat away from Debbie. It was about controlling her, controlling her affections. Anyway, I didn’t bother to find out who owned it. I hoped Harry would forget about it, or that maybe the cat would stay away. And then one day I came home from doing the grocery shopping - Harry was at work, Debbie was at school - and something out in the garden caught my eye. And there he was. That friendly little cat, hanging by his neck from a tree, a piece of filthy wire tight around his throat. Harry had cut him too. His fur was all matted with blood. It made me sick, and not just because it was gruesome and cruel, but because I knew it was a message from Harry to me. “Obey me, or else.”**

**I cut the poor creature down and buried him in the corner of the yard as quickly as I could, desperate to get it done before Debbie could get home and see him. And when she got home, I pretended that everything was fine. And when Harry got home, I saw him look in the garden. He could see that the cat was gone. He knew that I had got his message. The look on his face was indescribable.**

**Please don’t tell Debbie ...**

⁂

“Let me see your phone.” Debbie had confessed that the boy had continued to harass her with messages even after she had run away from him at the garage and found her own way home. Debbie unlocked it without hesitation, a fact that calmed Allie's heart. Now that she had revealed the worst, it seemed that she was content to relinquish her privacy and Allie was reassured that she had been honest with her. Debbie thumbed to the right place and handed the phone over. Allie scrolled through their conversations, her anger growing as she recognised the boy's, _Brayden's_ , alternating attempts to flatter and manipulate Debbie.

"What's all this about him missing his mum? Did she die?" Allie asked, wondering if that might partly explain his behaviour. 

"No. His mum's in Wentworth too. That's how we met," Debbie replied, as though that should have been obvious. Allie's blood surged with panic. Feeling lightheaded, she sat down abruptly. 

"What's his name?" Allie asked, masking her fear as best she could. "What's Brayden's last name?"

"Holt. Brayden Holt." Debbie looked mystified by Allie's behaviour. "Why? What's wrong?" Allie's brain was busy putting it all together. Jacs Holt, Brayden Holt, Bea, Debbie ...

"Nothing," Allie replied, shaking her head. Remembering her promise to Bea not to worry Debbie with her situation inside, she only said, "I'm going to have to mention this to your mum tomorrow Deb. Sorry, but if she knows Brayden's mum she needs to know you've been seeing him. I daresay it's nothing …" Debbie looked miserable but nodded slowly.

"I suppose I'll be due a punishment?" 

"I suppose you will. For deceiving me. You'll go to school, but no track, no band and no seeing your friends until I'm satisfied that you understand what a dangerous position you put yourself into. No pizza either. I'll drive you to and from school. Other than that, you're home with me." Tears stood out on Debbie's lids but she didn't object. "Now, you need to block Brayden's number and delete him from your contacts. I'll be asking to check your phone every now and again …" The tears spilled over but Allie couldn't be sorry that she was upset. Perhaps it would help the lesson to stick. "I need to ask if he hurt you …" Debbie was shaking her head. "Did the two of you have sex?" More head shaking, more tears. “Do you love him?” Allie asked more gently.

“I thought I did,” Debbie sobbed. “But when I saw that look on his face I knew I was kidding myself …”

It was time to drop the tough guy impression. Allie drew her into her arms and let her cry, kissing her curly head. "It's okay. You're safe. Sometimes people do crazy things when they're young. I know I did."

⁂

While Debbie took a shower Allie did some searching online. It was even worse than she'd feared. After thinking for a while she picked up her phone and made a call.

"Al? What's up?"

"Hey, Dad. I need a favour. From you and the boys."

After that they had grabbed some snacks and she and Debbie had watched a mindless movie together, sprawled on the couch. Debbie went to bed early, worn out with all the emotion. A few minutes later, Joe had arrived. Allie had rarely been more pleased to see him. Once he had been safely installed on the couch, Allie went to bed too. She watched 22:22 come and go but there were no gentle dreams for her that night. Her mind was a tempest of thoughts. It couldn't be a coincidence that Brayden was all over Debbie at the same time that his mother was paying Bea this unwelcome attention. Was this all about Jacs and Franky? Were Debbie and Bea just pawns in an endgame that they didn't even realise they were playing? And what would Bea say when Allie told her how she had completely missed the danger?

⁂

**… I think that's all for now. I managed to fill the paper pretty well after all. Thank you again for taking such good care of Debbie. See you soon,**

**Bea.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it, but let me know what you think either way.


	11. "None are so blind"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which an alliance is strengthened and some feelings are wilfully ignored.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I hope you are all safe and well. Here's the next chapter.

Bea folded another towel and tried not to look at the clock again. Liz had already caught her checking the time twice and had started to get that look on her face which meant she thought she knew something. Bea couldn't see what the big deal was. Everyone clock-watched when they were at work, but ever since Franky's comments last week she was feeling sensitive about assumptions that people might make. Bloody Franky ...

⁂

"Hey, Red. Looking good," Franky had commented as soon as she had walked back onto the unit after her visit with Allie. The others sat up and took notice, ready to be entertained. Franky made some kissy noises and flashed that smile at her. Bea ignored her, which in hindsight might not have been the best tactic. "Blondie has game, I'll give her that," she continued, determined to get a rise out of her. Bea frowned. 

"What are you on about Franky?" she shot back grumpily.

"She really puts a smile on your face and a spring in your step," she replied, getting right up in Bea's face. Bea stood her ground and merely scoffed.

"Not to mention colour in your pretty little cheeks," Franky continued, grabbing and squeezing Bea's cheek between her finger and thumb like she was an annoying older sister teasing her about her love life. Bea slapped her hand away in annoyance. 

"Get lost Franky!"

"Ooh! Sensitive!" she exclaimed. Boomer laughed. Bea glared at her and strode over to the sink for a cup of water, aware that all eyes were on her. She drank down her water, steeled herself, and turned back around. Doreen was flicking through a magazine, pretending not to be interested; Kim and Franky had their arms around each other and were now distracted; Liz was sitting on the couch with a cuppa. Only Boomer was still looking at Bea eagerly, waiting for more. Bea ignored her and sat down next to Liz, thankful that Franky’s mind was elsewhere.

“Alright love?” Liz asked, glancing at her. Bea gave her a brief smile.

“Yeah, thanks Liz,” Bea replied quietly.

“Don’t mind Franky. You know what she’s like.” Bea gave a rueful smile. “Good visit?” Bea nodded. “How’s young Allie?”

“She’s fine,” Bea replied shortly. Liz regarded her with shining eyes.

“She’s a good friend to you,” Liz stated matter-of-factly. “Visiting and writing every week.” Bea had to agree.

“Yeah.” There was a long pause. Liz sipped her tea. “I can talk to her,” Bea added eventually, driven to give words to her thoughts by an impulse she couldn’t fathom. “She’s a good listener and I feel like she understands what I’m trying to say.” _Even when I don’t say anything_. “And she seems to know the right things to say to me.” Liz nodded. “And she makes me laugh,” Bea added, unable to contain a smile. Liz’s eyebrows arched expressively. She smiled in return and patted Bea’s leg. There was no electric current to singe her nerves, not like when Allie had done the same thing only half an hour ago.

“She makes you laugh,” she said, half to herself. “That’s good, love. You should cherish that. It doesn’t come along every day.” _Cherish_. What a strange word for her to have used.

⁂

"I think I know what you were driving at last week … about fear and anger," Bea told Dr Westfall. The psychologist nodded. 

"Go on …" she prompted.

"When I'm angry … maybe I'm only angry because I'm afraid. Maybe _rage_ is more acceptable to my idea of myself than fear." Dr Westfall was looking at her acutely. 

"What led you to this thought, Bea?" she asked, looking a little gratified by Bea’s answer. Bea shrugged.

"Just something someone said," she replied, looking at the carpet, downplaying the moment of epiphany she had experienced.

"Do you think it'll help you? Knowing this?"

"I hope it will." Bea thought for a minute. "Anger … it makes thinking straight difficult. But … knowledge … I don't know. Knowledge is power, they say. It's about time I had a little self-knowledge. Maybe it’ll give me power over my impulses. To be able to think rather than just act.” Bea stumbled along, verbalising her thoughts as best she could, all the while picking at a loose thread on her hoodie to avoid having to look at Dr Westfall’s face. Therapy was not for the faint hearted, she decided.

"If you had come to this conclusion earlier is there anything that you might have done differently?" Dr Westfall asked gently. Bea closed her eyes on the pain. _The what-ifs._ Nothing was more uncomfortable to consider than what might have been.

"Maybe. Maybe if I had known I would have left Harry years ago. I never wanted to think about how afraid I was. It was easier to think I was angry with Harry for how he treated us. I think I thought I was strong for dealing with it on my own. That it would have been weak to ask for help." She dared a quick look at the psychologist and then averted her eyes to her lap. “Maybe part of me still thinks that.” In her peripheral vision she could see Dr Westfall making a note. "But maybe this whole mess could have been avoided if I’d got help. And I wouldn't be here now. I'd be on the outside somewhere. Debbie would be with me … where she belongs." _But what about Allie?_ The thought had come from nowhere and bounced around inside her skull like a small child looking for attention. Bea sent it to its room.

⁂

_Dear Bea,_

_Thanks for your letter! It came so soon after I saw you that, I confess, it took me by surprise. But it always gives me a happy feeling to recognise your handwriting on the envelope. The notepaper and envelopes were something of a selfish gift, as I'm sure you must have realised. A bigger sheet equals more letter, so happy me!_

_It's very kind of you to suggest that I was partly responsible for the breakthrough you have made. But I don't think that I had anything to do with it: you were just ready to know yourself better, now that you are in a position to have the luxury to do so. Dr Westfall will be able to help you make the most of it, I'm sure._

_Thank you for telling me the rest of that terrible episode of Harry and the cat. I don't think that anything could have brought home to me the reality of what you and Debbie have been through better than that. I can imagine the fear you must have felt in the moment you realised what he had done; the threat that his actions contained towards you and Debbie is so clear. I hope you won't think that I'm interfering when I tell you that I think you ought to tell the whole thing to either Dr Westfall or Josephine Pym. If it could be brought out at your trial somehow I'm sure that the jury would recognise your actions as being in self defence_

_It is painful to me to know that you must have many more such stories to tell. They are inside you and inside Debbie and I don't like to think about what harm they have done and continue to do. Please don't leave them in your heart. Get them out. I know that is easier said than done, but I hope that Debbie will confide more in me as time passes. And she has her therapist. You have Dr Westfall now. Please make use of her. But I want you to know that you can tell me. Or write them down in these letters if that's easier ..._

⁂

"So, what's she like?" Franky asked later. They were sitting on the couch in their unit. Franky was in a different mood by now, the day after she had teased Bea about Allie. The mocking tone and killer smile were gone. Bea felt herself reddening. What could she say about Allie without Franky making a big song and dance about it

"She's easy to talk to," she began. "Sympathetic …"

"Goes with the job I suppose …" Franky said agreeably. "What do you talk about with her?" Bea must have looked indignant or something, because Franky added, "I know, I know. It's private. Just … give me an idea." Bea wondered why she was so interested. 

"Um … Debbie, mostly. Harry a bit, this place, a bit … " Franky was nodding. 

"And it's helping, yeah? You feel better afterwards?" Bea considered. _Always_. Always lighter, easier, further away from the dark days. Externally, she limited herself to a nod. “And does she write it down, what you say?” Bea recoiled.

“No, of course not! Why would she?” she asked in horror.

“I just thought that’s what happened. That it all went in some kind of file …” Bea’s head suddenly caught up with Franky’s. She covered her eyes with her hand and gave a strangled laugh.

“You’re talking about Dr Westfall, aren’t you?” she said, peeking out from behind her hand.

“Of course! Who did you think …? Oh … you thought I meant blondie!” Franky started laughing raucously.

“Shh!” Bea tried to cover her mouth with her hand, whilst Franky fended her off. The others were all in their rooms already, but too much noise would bring them out looking to satisfy their curiosity. Franky slapped her on the thigh.

“You’ve got it bad, Red. Can’t get her out of your head, eh? Well, I know how that feels. I’ve only seen Dr Westfall twice in passing in the corridor, not said more than two words to her, and I’m already considering throwing myself on her mercy.” Bea eyed her in fascination.

“You’ve got a thing for her?” she asked in a low tone, feeling shy to even brush upon this topic.

“ _Oh,_ yeah,” Franky replied with deep emphasis. “I’m thinking of going to Erica and suggesting that she employs the good doctor full time. See if I can’t get me on her couch …” Bea scoffed.

“There’s no couch, only a chair.”

“Couch, chair, up against the wall … makes no odds to me!” Franky replied with relish. Bea rolled her eyes but couldn’t help chuckling.

“It’s not a bad idea, though,” Bea continued more seriously. “She’s a good psych, I think. There are plenty of women in here who would benefit.” Franky nodded, self-satisfied.

“I know. It’s a win-win situation!” she crowed, lifting her hands excitedly in the air. “The women get their help and me … I get to know the doc more intimately ...”

“You wish!” Bea responded with an elbow to her ribs. “Not everyone is falling over themselves to get with Franky Doyle you know.”

“Clearly not you.” Bea gave her a complacent look. “But that’s okay Red. I can see your affections are elsewhere.” Bea just scoffed, not knowing what to say to Franky’s constant insinuations.

“What about Kim?” Bea asked.

“Kim’s fun, but she’s getting out soon. And Erica … well. We’ll see,” Franky replied with a narrowing of the eyes. Bea knew it wasn’t her place to question the putative top dog but swallowed hard and said her piece.

“Kim may be a bit of fun to you, but I’ve seen the way she looks at you. You’re gunna break her heart.” Franky looked at Bea in surprise and turned to face her.

“Are you giving me advice on my love life? What makes you an expert on romance all of a sudden?” Bea knew she was about as far from an expert as it was possible to be, and she was just about to say as much when Franky continued. _“Oh, I see_ …” Franky left that thought hanging, laughed mischievously and got to her feet. “I’m going to bed. See you in the morning. Sweet dreams Red.” 

“Night.” Bea watched her go. Franky teased everyone on the unit. Bea almost felt as though being teased was some kind of stamp of approval, a _“You’re okay with me”_ from the boss. She smiled ruefully to think that it had taken being sent to prison for her to make some proper friends. On the outside she had always been too busy hiding what was going on with Harry to make any true friends. But in here, inevitably, everyone knew what Harry had done, and what she had done to Harry. Some women might judge her a hard case because of it, and that was all to the good, but all of the women had personal situations that had led them here and so judgement on that score was surprisingly absent. So, she decided to accept Franky’s teasing in the spirit in which it was intended; as a hand of friendship. The _content_ of the remarks she pushed to the corner of her mind.

⁂

 _Sweet dreams._ She _had_ slept surprisingly well all week. Maybe she was finally getting used to all the night-time noises that this place generated. Perhaps she had finally become used to the thin mattress on her bed. Whatever the reason, she was waking in the mornings with an inexplicable feeling of contentment. Half of her wanted to embrace it; the other half of her knew to beware it. She glanced over at the woman operating the steam press. Jacs had warned her about becoming too comfortable, finding life inside too easy. Whether that was just sound advice from an old lag or whether it was a warning, Bea knew she would do well to heed it.

She looked at the clock. _Damn_. Liz was staring at her again. There was nothing wrong with anticipating a visit from a friend, was there? Everyone liked getting a visit. Not that Liz ever had a visitor. Bea had heard the story of how Liz had ended up in here. It was sad, though hardly surprising, that Oliver had divorced her and that her kids wanted nothing to do with her. But such a shame that the booze had ruined her life. Liz loved her kids and missed them fiercely. Now all her maternal instincts were directed at the women, which is what made her such a brilliant peer worker. Liz had every right to be envious of Bea's visits but, to her credit, Bea had never detected anything like that from her.

The bell sounded to indicate that the work period was at an end. _Not long now_. Bea finished up what she was doing while Doreen and Boomer headed out the door already, joshing and nudging each other.

“Bea …” She turned. It was Jacs who had paused her, Simmo by her side for emphasis. Bea could see Franky and Liz. They were already in the corridor but Franky was looking back through the glass pane in the door. Bea’s heart started thumping, wondering if something was about to happen.

“What?” Bea asked hoarsely, determined not to be cowed. Jacs gave her a sly look.

“I’m still waiting for that hair-do. I don’t like to be kept waiting. How about now?” Bea glanced at the clock again before she could catch herself. _Damn it_. The stab of regret was acute. To give anything away in front of Jacs was a mistake.

“I don’t …” she began. Jacs eyes were watchful.

“Oh, that’s right. You have a visit in a few minutes. Debbie’s foster mum, isn’t it?” she said with that artificially pleasant smile. Bea didn’t answer and wouldn’t look at her. Anger was swelling in her chest but she couldn’t afford for Holt to see it. “Well … maybe this evening then?”

“I don’t …” she began again, this time directing her eyes to the door, relieved to see that Franky was still loitering in the corridor. “I don’t think Franky would approve,” she grated out. She watched Jacs' eyes follow hers and her face drop a miniscule amount as she realised Franky was watching.

“Francesca needs to learn her place,” she replied gamely, though her face revealed that she was rattled. “And so do you. Come on Simmo,” she added pleasantly. “Time for a cuppa.” Bea watched them pass Franky. All of their eyes were sharp with threat. Franky treated Jacs to one of her biggest smiles.

“Everything alright Nana? Arthritis playing up?” she asked as they passed. Jacs didn’t deign to reply. Bea joined Franky and they walked together along the corridor, bumping shoulders. “What was that about?” Franky asked, checking no one was within earshot.

“Jacs has been asking me to do her hair,” Bea said in a near whisper. “Keeps mentioning Deb, and now Allie. I don’t like it. I don’t like the way she’s insinuating that she knows them.” Franky was looking thoughtful. “I can’t work out if she wants to put me out of the picture or recruit me,” Bea added in frustration.

“I heard an interesting rumour,” Franky said, looking around before pulling Bea into an empty stairwell. “I heard that Vinnie has found himself a younger model and is looking to divorce Jacs. If that’s true, she could be looking to add you to her crew. If Jacs is divorced out of the Holt clan then, poof, there goes a lot of her power. She’s not getting any younger … and she still has years left on her sentence. She’s going to need some ballsy types around her to survive … maybe that’s where you come in.” Bea took this in and swallowed dryly.

“You know I’m not interested in being Jacs’ bodyguard …” Bea protested.

“I know, don’t worry. Just be prepared for her to try and force the issue.” Bea nodded. “Stay out of her way and watch your back,” Franky added.

“Smith!”

“That’s Mr Jackson. Must be time for your visit,” Franky said with a glint in her eye. “Here, let me fix your hair …” she reached out a hand and ruffled Bea’s hair energetically.

“Franky ..!” Bea tutted and attempted to smooth her hair back into place.

“Blondie’ll find you irresistible,” Franky declared with a grin. Bea scoffed and turned to go. Franky grabbed her arm. “Jacs tries anything else, you come to me straight away.” Bea nodded. “We’ll show her not to mess with us.”

⁂

_… and then to complete the disaster, the cat jumped up and knocked the open bottle of wine off the counter! It had to be red of course. And Debbie was no help - she was too busy laughing her socks off. I don’t suppose that stain will ever come all the way out, but every time I look at it I smile, so it’s worth a ruined rug._

_I suppose I’d better stop there and do some actual work. I have a deadline looming. I’ll see you soon. Until then stay safe and keep out of trouble._

_Love, Allie._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was really down on this chapter whilst I was writing it, but editing it just now, it's not as bad as I thought. Hitch ❤


	12. "Listen, Listen...!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things are heard while others fade away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you are all well. Here is the next chapter.

Allie's worries faded into the background as soon as Bea was in sight. It was just like those times when she had been listening to the neighbour's dog barking incessantly all afternoon only for her attention to be captured by the flitting of the thornbills in her backyard, making the sound just slide away. Everything else receded into the distance whilst Bea's presence rushed upon her and occupied the foreground. She stood square on to Allie, springing a little on her toes, looking expectant. Her eyes were fixed on Allie's, lips pursed but curling a little at the corners, arms relaxed by her sides. _Her arms_. This week Bea was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt, or maybe it was one of her usual ones with the sleeves ripped off. _Whatever_. Allie was treated to an uninterrupted view from smooth shoulder, past toned upper arm, to her lower arm, as strong and slender as a vine, and finally to her fine boned, almost delicate wrist and hand.

Allie walked up to her feeling an irresistible grin tugging at her mouth, pulse accelerating every moment. Bea’s smile blossomed and Allie’s heart flipped and her lungs emptied.

“Hi,” she said breathily. She hoped Bea wouldn't notice how love-struck she sounded.

“Hi.” Allie’s whole body vibrated within the pleasurable frequency of Bea’s voice. The moment stretched out.

“So do I get a hug, or what?” Allie asked. She tried to keep her tone light and teasing; she tried to excise any neediness that might creep in. She’d had some rules for herself, before she came in here, but somehow their importance seemed to have faded away into the background too. Bea made a dismissive sound but her smile still lit her face and eyes as she held her arms out. Allie stepped into the circle they created; she closed her eyes and allowed herself the momentary comfort of resting her head in the crook of Bea’s neck. It felt so good that tears needled her eyes. Placing her hands against Bea’s back she took in a gasping breath through her mouth; the oxygen of this moment would need to sustain her for the whole week ahead. And then it was over. Bea had drawn back and was looking at her with a faint concern.

“You okay, Allie?” She nodded dumbly and sat down quickly, hoping to distract her from reading her face too closely.

“Yeah. Looking good Bea,” she side-tracked, allowing her eyes to roam, apparently mockingly, over Bea’s face and body, particularly her bare arms. Predictably, Bea was flustered by this attention, looking away and smoothing down her hair. “Been hitting the gym?” Allie gripped her hands together to make sure she didn’t reach out and touch. Bea covered as much of her upper arms as she could by folding her arms and resting her hands over her biceps.

“Not much else to do,” she growled. “Plus … it’s a good way to empty my mind.” Allie nodded and stowed that idea away for later. Bea might need such a technique when she told her what had been going on with Debbie. She wondered if she should tell her now and get it over with. Her stomach plummeted and her hands trembled at the thought. Or should she wait until near the end of the visit? Delay the evil moment? Either way, the thought of the burden it would add to Bea’s load made it hard to breathe. She looked up straight into Bea’s concerned gaze.

⁂

Bea’s gaze scoured the room impatiently until Allie stepped into the glare of her relentless search-beam. She exhaled in relief, a smile monopolising her face. Why had she thought that she might not come today? Her worries were spilling over. But Allie was good; she didn’t need to worry about Allie. Allie was the fixed point around which everything else went to hell. Although she did look a little tired and worried today, didn’t she? Beautiful though. Bea’s face turned towards hers as she made her way across the room, like the head of a sunflower tracking the sun across the sky. Feeling herself lift up onto her toes as though she was straining to cross the distance between them without moving her feet, Bea remembered something that Franky had said.

_"She really puts a smile on your face and a spring in your step."_

That was true, apparently. But Allie would have that effect on anyone. It was probably what made her such a good foster mother. She was one of those rare people who were as beautiful on the inside as on the outside. And Franky’s insinuations were just that; ideas without basis, designed to slink their way into Bea’s mind and unsettle her. So when Allie challenged her to a hug, she could hardly back down. Because a hug between friends was nothing to fear. But Allie felt different in her arms today. Smaller, shrinking into her as though for protection. Bea gave her what she could and wished it could be more.

“Looking good, Bea.” Suddenly self-conscious, Bea reached up and attempted to tidy her hair where Franky had mussed it so comprehensively a few minutes ago. She noticed Allie eyeing her arms appreciatively and knew she was blushing.

_"Not to mention colour in your pretty little cheeks."_ That was Franky again. It seemed that she had planted quite a few of these insidious little thoughts in Bea’s head. She tried not to listen. 

When she managed to get her skin colour under control she returned her eyes to Allie who seemed so deep in thought she was almost absent. Her eyes, which had been their typical tropical blue a minute ago, were now hyacinth. Bea watched as they darkened to indigo. Allie’s gaze was turned so far inward that Bea hesitated to disturb her. Perhaps she was fed up with having to come here every week. Perhaps this was her way of letting Bea know she was bored.

“Nothing to tell me this week?” Bea asked, trying to keep any trace of the bitterness which was filling her mouth out of her voice. Allie’s eyes slowly came back into focus and pinned Bea to her seat. Her eyes were full of something unspoken. Bea heard her swallow drily.

“The opposite,” she replied hoarsely. “Too much …” She looked so worried, scared even, that Bea’s heart bounded sympathetically. She reached out her hand. Allie’s was trembling slightly as she brushed against the spot on her wrist where the burn, now healed, had been. She slipped her fingers into Allie’s curled palm. Her hands were always so warm and dry. Bea found reassurance in that constancy and hoped Allie could find something comforting in her touch. Her own hands were usually chilly and sometimes damp with anxiety, and she hoped Allie didn't mind that. The way she was squeezing her fingers suggested not. They exchanged a small smile.

“You’d better tell me,” Bea said.

⁂

A trapped butterfly fluttered desperately in her chest. There were more in her stomach. A cloud; enough to cause a tornado of nausea. Allie swallowed her irritation at herself as best she could. It was one thing to be scared on Debbie’s behalf, although she was confident that she was as safe as she could make her, and it was only to be expected that she would be worried about how this might affect Bea’s mental state. But the disabling amount of fear that she felt at the blame that Bea would direct towards her was unacceptable. She loved being in love with Bea. It was the highest high she had ever felt. But right now it was bloody inconvenient.

“I have to tell you something that you’re going to find upsetting. Frightening, even. So please, Bea, please remember what you told me about fear and anger and don’t … do anything reckless …” Bea was frowning at her.

“God’s sake. Just tell me,” she growled, clamping down on Allie’s hand. “Is it Debbie? Is she okay?” Allie didn’t like the hectic gleam in her eyes.

“I want you to know that I would never let Debbie come to any harm …” she began, disgusted at her own pleading tone.

“I know. I’ve already entrusted her to you.” Bea spoke so definitively that Allie finally found her courage and spoke up.

“I noticed that Debbie has been a bit worried about messages she’s been getting on her phone this last couple of weeks. I finally got her to tell me what was going on yesterday.” Bea was looking at her steadily. “She’s been seeing a boy. He’d been pressuring her to try drugs but, well, she’s no push over and she resisted.” Bea nodded but didn’t speak, clearly waiting for the axe to fall. “And this is the part where I don’t want you to freak out … it turns out that the boy is Brayden Holt …” Bea didn’t react for a moment, but when Allie saw the knowledge reach her eyes Bea went very pale, her face stricken. She let go of Allie’s hand and gripped the edges of the table instead. _Tightly_. For a moment Allie thought she would turn over the table but instead she abruptly pushed herself to her feet overturning her chair with a clatter. She looked around the room wildly as if seeking an escape and Allie had no doubt that if there had been a way out she would have gone to Debbie on that instant. Allie had also come to her feet, without realising it, and now saw one of the officers take a step in their direction.

“Smith?” she said questioningly. “Sit down Smith.” Bea didn’t appear to hear her. The guard came closer. “Sit down Smith, or I’ll have to remove you,” she said more firmly. Allie edged around the table.

“It’s okay officer … Officer Bennett,” she said, having glanced at the woman’s name tag. She was surprised at how calm she sounded. “We’re okay,” she told her with a placating smile. She reached out to Bea and held her by her unfeeling wrist. “Right, Bea?” Bea’s eyes were elsewhere. Allie smoothed her thumb over the tender inner of her wrist. Over and over. She stepped closer so that their faces were only a few centimetres apart. She could hear Bea sucking air in noisily through her nose as her lungs attempted to keep pace with the oxygen demands of her rushing blood and ready muscles. Fight or flight. “Bea.” She breathed her name softly, willing her to return. She placed her other hand on Bea’s hip and spoke to her quietly so that the guard wouldn’t hear. “Debbie’s safe. I know this situation sounds bad but I’ve made sure she’ll be safe. Now we just have to make sure you’ll be safe. I need you to help me with that Bea. Between us we can do this, but I can’t do it on my own … _Bea_ …” 

⁂

There was a strange rushing in her ears and suddenly sound came back. 

" _Bea_ …" Bea’s eyes came into focus. _Allie._ Her blue eyes were steady, her face calm, her mouth relaxed. Bea felt her panic drop a notch. “There you are …” Allie whispered to her with a hint of a smile curving her lips. _Such a sweet shade of pink._ “We have to show the officer that you’re okay … or she’ll take you back to your cell.” Bea blinked at Allie. _Officer?_ “Bea …” Allie’s breath tickled her face. She became aware of Allie’s thumb against her wrist, her hand on her hip. Her heels lifted involuntarily, shifting her centre of gravity, leaning her into those touches. Allie smiled again, broader this time, a hint of rose in her cheeks. Bea watched as she attempted to straighten her face, bowing her head before looking up at her through her lashes. “Whaddya say you let Officer Bennett know you’re alright?” 

“Hmm?” Bea queried. Allie inclined her head to the side and Bea’s eyes followed her prompt. Miss Bennett was glaring at her, arms crossed against her chest.

“Oh, yeah,” she croaked. “All good here Miss Bennett.”

“Sit down Smith,” she said impatiently. Bea nodded. Allie released her and stepped behind her to pick up her chair which was lying on its back on the floor.

“Thanks,” she said, sitting down gingerly. Allie’s hand rested momentarily on her back before she returned to her own seat. Miss Bennett nodded, apparently satisfied, and stepped back a few paces. Allie was silent and watchful whilst Bea took a minute to get her breathing under control. 

“Where’s Debbie now?” she asked as her body was engulfed in another wave of panic. “The Holts are connected. They could get to her …”

“She’s at school. I thought about keeping her at home but I don’t want to frighten her too much …”

“Do you even know who the Holts _are_ Allie?” she asked, struggling to keep the anger out of her voice. Allie’s calmness seemed to desert her then: her lips trembled, her eyes pooled; her whole face sagged and changed shape.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, tears in her voice. “I know I should have caught this sooner …” Bea couldn’t hold back the impatient sound her throat made.

“Forget that for now. Tell me you know she’s safe.” Her voice sounded harsh. She didn’t mean it to but she couldn’t call it back. Allie gathered herself. She cleared her throat.

“She's safe. I did some research on the Holts, so I know they’re bad people. A crime family. I called my dad. He’s set up a protective cordon around Debbie using some of his old ex-army mates and my brothers. I went to the school first thing and explained as much as I felt I could … I … I didn’t tell them all the details. I didn’t want them to call the police. I thought that might make things worse … Anyway, the school was really helpful. They’ve put safeguarding procedures in place to make sure no one unauthorised can get near her. My dad has two people watching the school all the time she’s there. I’ll be driving her. There’ll be someone outside the house at all times and the boys are taking it in turns to sleep on my couch …” Something was worming its way through Bea’s fear: gratitude. Allie had gone to great lengths to keep Debbie safe, and it struck her then that Allie loved Debbie too and that she was scared for her safety and would do whatever it took to protect her. A hot flash of wonderment darted through her. She was not on her own in this. For the first time in her adult life she wasn’t a solo parent, Harry’s efforts having counted for nothing. She tried to catch Allie’s eye but she was looking off into a corner of the room, barely keeping it together, as she carried on listing what had been done. “Um, I’m monitoring Debbie’s phone in case he tries to get in touch with her. She’s grounded, obviously …” She made a helpless gesture, her eyes brimming again. “I should never have let her come here on her own. That’s how she met him, you see. He was visiting his mum, she was visiting you … He played on that. That they had that in common.” She let out an exhausted gasp and roughly pushed the tears out of her eyes with the heels of her hands. It pained Bea to see her so upset. She grabbed Allie’s hot wet hands in both of hers and squeezed them hard.

“You did good Allie,” she told her earnestly. “This is no more your fault than mine. If I hadn’t got myself put away none of this would be happening.” Allie finally looked at her. Bea could see in her eyes that she was glad that Bea had said that, but she was still a long way from believing her. She shook her head.

“You entrusted her to me. Your most _precious_ …” her voice broke on that word. She swallowed. “I wish I could go back in time and change things …”

“Don’t Allie. Take it from me. Nothing good comes from that.” She squeezed her hands again. “No more tears. Tell me everything from the start.”

⁂

Allie took a ragged breath and told her everything she knew or suspected. It helped to put it together as a logical narrative. If she concentrated on making the story as cogent as possible she could almost forget the danger for a while. It was something like editing a proof: _this_ detail is irrelevant - cut it; _this_ action caused this event - make sure that’s clear. By the time she reached the end of her explanation she felt better. Bea had been following her words closely and, so far, had not let go of her hands. Maybe she truly didn’t blame her as much as she had feared. On the other hand, it wouldn’t do for Bea to blame herself. The blame lay with the Holts, but what was the point of blame anyway? They had to work out what to do. She had to work out what could be done without Bea putting herself in danger. The fear was under control for now, but soon Allie would have to leave her and it was likely that the fear and anger would be back. If she could get Bea to commit to a particular course of action before the end of this visit, perhaps that would keep her from imploding.

“Do you have any idea why Jacs is doing this?” she asked. Bea looked at their joined hands before replying in an undertone.

“I think she wants leverage to get me to switch sides from Franky’s crew to hers. I heard a rumour, and it’s only a rumour, that Vinnie wants to divorce Jacs. If that’s true she’ll want to strengthen her position before it becomes common knowledge. Either that or she wants me to be so terrified of what Brayden might do to Debbie that I act up and get put in the slot. That way I’m out of the way for when she makes a move on Franky. Or maybe it’s just revenge because I stood up to her once too often. She wants me to know she can get to Debbie whenever she likes, so I’d better toe the line. She clearly has Brayden passing on to her whatever Debbie has told him. She knew you were coming here today.” Allie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at the fact that this woman, this crime matriarch, was invested enough in intimidating Bea to have _her_ in her sights. Dread seized her belly abruptly, bringing the queasiness back. Bea gripped her hands tighter and scooted closer so that their foreheads were nearly touching. “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe.”

“I’m not worried for me. I’m just surprised at the lengths she’s going to to get to you. How are you going to manage? I don’t want to just walk away and leave you here to face it on your own …” Tears threatened again at the thought and Allie wished that they weren’t audible in her voice. If her fear spilled over it would only make Bea’s fear worse. But Bea just smiled gently.

“It’s okay,” she said with such kind concern that it made Allie want to weep all the more. “You just keep both eyes on Debbie. Anyway, I’m not alone, remember. Just like you have your Novak clan, I have my crew.”

“But what’ll you do?” Allie asked plaintively.

“I’ll talk to Franky. She’ll know what to do.” Allie didn't know Franky and certainly didn't trust her, but Bea seemed to have faith in her. But, even if this woman couldn't be trusted to look out for Bea, maybe she _could_ be trusted to look out for her own interests. And perhaps her interests and Bea's interests intersected for the time being. 

⁂

It was funny, Bea reflected, how this visit had turned out. When Allie first told her about the threat to Debbie she had been - _surprise, surprise_ \- angry and afraid. But when Allie started to lose her cool Bea had felt able to step up and help her. The strong impulse she felt to soothe and reassure her had taken her by surprise. For so many years her only concern had been for Debbie. What did it mean to feel such concern for someone else? _”Can’t get her out of your head, eh?”_ Fucking Franky.

But when it was time to go Allie looked so reluctant to leave it made her own heart ache in response.

"Call me. Let me know what's happening," Allie pleaded, getting to her feet.

"Of course. Write to me? Let me know Debbie's okay? Don't let her visit, whatever you do. And if she's in danger and you have to call the police, don't hesitate." Allie's instinct to leave the police out of it was the right one as long as there was no immediate danger, because as far as Jacs was concerned, involving the police would amount to lagging and Bea would reap a harsh punishment for that. But if it came to that, so be it. Allie nodded, and Bea could tell from her expression that she knew what it would mean for Bea.

"If I have to," she said, meeting Bea’s eyes. And Bea knew she could do it. She would hate to do it, but if she had to she would put Debbie first just as Bea herself would. Bea nodded in satisfaction. Allie glanced around at all the other visitors filing out. With a look of desperation on her face she pulled Bea to her and wrapped her in a fierce embrace. Bea could feel Allie’s chest heaving against hers with the emotion of the moment.

“Hey. It’s going to be okay …” she murmured into her hair, rocking her slightly.

“Be careful,” Allie whispered back urgently. “Be smart. If you feel like you're gunna lose it, visit the gym, take your mind off it. I want you out of here as soon as possible, so don’t muck up your good record.”

“I won’t,” Bea promised. Feeling Allie trembling and hearing the tears in her voice she couldn’t help but worry about her. ”Will you be okay?” 

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. I’m tougher than you know.” Listening to her vehement tone, Bea could only smile.

“That’s my girl,” she said.

She watched a smile transform Allie's face as she reluctantly backed towards the door and wondered where those words had come from.

_“You’ve got it bad, Red.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that all made sense. Please let me know if you found it difficult to follow - it's hard to know sometimes. Hitch.


	13. "Family Plot"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a family pulls together, there is an unexpected visitor, and some history is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I hope you are all well. Here is the next chapter. I hope you like it.

They wouldn’t tell her anything on the phone, so Allie was at the prison, pacing up and down in front of reception a full half an hour before there was any hope of being let inside. There had been no phone call from Bea. She had said she would call and let her know what was going on and yet she hadn't. There had been no letter either and Allie felt her tension escalating every day that the post contained only official correspondence and junk mail. What could possibly be keeping her from calling or writing? She could think of only two possibilities: that she was in the slot or that she was in the hospital. The third possibility could not be sanely entertained for more than a split second, so Allie had decided that if something more catastrophic had happened, Debbie, as next of kin, would have been informed, so it was not worth worrying about. But worry she had. 

⁂

"Kaz. What are you doing here?" Seemingly, Robbie had let her in on his way out. 

"I've been drafted," she said, plonking a bottle of wine down on the kitchen table and shrugging off her jacket. "Apparently you should have had the pleasure of Freddo's company tonight, but he has a date, so you've got me instead." She sat herself down. Allie just looked at her. "Your dad called, explained the situation, and put me on the rota." Allie groaned. 

"I wish he had called first …"

"Why?" Kaz sounded affronted. "I'm just as good a guard dog as Freddo. And better than Robbie …"

"Because I would have told him that you won't want to spend the night on my couch …"

" _That_ doesn't bother me," Kaz said pointedly. Allie eyed her.

"I'm sensing that there's something that _does_ bother you …" she said in resignation, knowing that Kaz wasn't one to keep her irritations to herself. 

"Why didn't you tell me what's going on? Don't you know that I always wanna help you?" Allie did know that. She wished that she could tell Kaz that it had just slipped her mind, or that she'd been too busy, but that wouldn't be the truth. The truth was that she had caught a whiff of disapproval in Kaz's attitude to both Debbie and Bea and didn't want to have to face her antagonism. Allie sighed. 

"I think you already know why I didn't mention it." Allie said. Kaz smiled. 

"Because you knew that I'd point out that this whole thing that you've got going with the Smiths is getting ridiculously intense. That because you've got the hots for the mum you're sticking your neck out for the daughter …"

"That's not what's going on at all …" Allie cut in hotly.

"Your dad told me you refused to call the police, but from what he said these people are dangerous!"

"Shh!" Allie hissed, closing the door to the hall. "Debbie's just upstairs. I don't want her to be any more worried than she already is." She attempted to gather herself into a calm frame of mind, something that was essential when having a conversation with Kaz. Allie loved her, respected her, and owed her her life, but her brutal honesty could make discussions contentious. "I know I did the right thing in not calling the police. It gives Bea the chance to sort things out at the prison. But we're both very clear that if there's any escalation of risk to Debbie, then I'll call the police … regardless of the danger to Bea."

"What's this Holt woman got against her, anyway?" Kaz asked. Allie shook her head. 

"She's not sure. It's probably just prison politics. Bea's got to find a way to get her to back off without ruining her good record, because she'll need a clean sheet when it comes to trial." Kaz scoffed. 

"From what I hear about Wentworth that's not the way things are done there. It wasn't long ago that their governor was _murdered_. Did you hear about that?"

"Of course. That's why we've got to get her sentence reduced as much as possible. She'll never be safe in there." Kaz's eyes lit up and she nodded her head knowingly. 

"I _knew_ it. You think you can save her, that's what this is all about …" Allie gave a despairing groan. It was always the same with Kaz.

"You make it sound like some kind of complex! But you don't believe she deserves to be in there any more than I do …"

"All right, settle down," Kaz interrupted. "So sensitive! You're as thin-skinned as an overripe banana." Allie slumped into a chair, knowing she had become a bit shrill for a minute. "And speaking of injustice in women's sentencing, I put out some feelers in this chat room I'm in and got a couple of replies."

"Replies? To what?"

"To my question asking if there were any other women who wanted to get involved in some direct action. I got replies from a woman called Mel and another called Carly …

"Whoa, whoa … you're not still thinking about that are you? I already told you that was a bad idea."

"How can you say that? All those kids - like Debbie … much younger than her too, separated from their mothers for months on end! Most of those women could serve their sentences in the community without risk to the public and they could be caring for their children at the same time. Meanwhile the men who pimped them or got them hooked on drugs are still out there …"

"Seriously Kaz? I'm not arguing about the injustice of it, but your direct action would put you on the wrong side of the law. Plus any feminist vigilante group would be sure to make the press and that will only hurt Bea's chances at trial. So, for me, please Kaz, drop it." Kaz crossed her arms over her chest. Her expression said that she'd never give an inch but Allie knew her well. "I'm begging you Kaz. For me. I can't be visiting _you_ in prison too." A long silence descended. Eventually Kaz sighed. 

"Alright bubba, I'll shelve it for now. I had a really great name for the group all picked out too …" she added regretfully. 

"Spare me the details," Allie replied. Kaz smiled, unoffended.

"So, are you gunna get us some glasses?" she asked, gesturing to the wine. Allie got two wine glasses out of the cabinet. 

"I'll just have half a glass," she said as Kaz started to pour. "Got to keep my wits about me."

"Why'd you say that?"

"In case Brayden turns up again," Allie replied flatly. Kaz stopped pouring and stared at her.

"You've gotta be joking. He had the nerve to show his face ..?" Allie nodded. 

"Although, as it turned out, I'd seen it before."

⁂

It had been three o'clock in the afternoon when Allie had glanced away from her laptop screen and out of the window. A figure in a grey hoodie was loping along the street and, when he reached a spot opposite Allie's house, he paused and looked up at the facade. When he drew the hood off his head and started across the road purposefully, Allie had started to her feet with a sense of alarm. She had seen that face and that dirty blond hair before. She ran down the stairs and yanked the front door open with enough energy to propel her unthinkingly onto the front path in just her socks.

"You!" she said accusatively, jabbing her finger at him. He looked seriously taken-aback and Allie could only assume that she must come across as some kind of maniac. _Good_ . " _You're_ Brayden Holt." He nodded affably. He was good looking, she supposed, in a potato-faced, narrow-eyed kind of way and, if Allie had not already been aware of his character, she might have been taken in by his smile and friendliness.

"You must be Allie," he said, and grinned, holding out his hand for a polite handshake. But Allie remembered his smirking face from the very first time she had visited Bea at Wentworth. On that occasion he had declined to be searched by the sniffer dog. _Smug. Entitled. Complacent._ That’s how he had looked. She shook her head at him disbelievingly.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me …” She took another step forward and was gratified to see him edge away a little, his smile beginning to wilt. “You stay away from Debbie,” she said firmly, the fury she could hear in her voice giving her confidence. “She’s told me what’s been going on. If I catch you around here again …” Allie stopped talking to allow his imagination to fill in the blank, whilst giving him what must surely have been an irate look followed by a hefty shove to the chest. He backed hastily towards the street, almost colliding with Joe who was wheeling his bike onto Allie’s path. Joe gave him a smile filled with polite menace and Brayden flinched. “Get off my property!” Allie concluded at volume. He stepped into the street. Joe continued to look at him in a way that couldn’t be misconstrued as anything other than threatening.

“I think it’s up to Debbie,” Brayden called out from a safe distance, focusing on Allie again. “If she wants to see me. Not you.” Allie charged. By the time she had taken half a dozen paces Brayden had turned away, flicked his hood back up and was striding off down the street at a quick pace. Joe caught hold of Allie’s arm to halt her pursuit.

“Alright sis. I think he got the message,” Joe said with a troubled smile.

“What are you doing here so early?” she asked him, unable to quench her ire quickly enough to prevent it from scorching him. Luckily, Joe was the last person in the world to take offence.

“My lecture was cancelled,” he said, wheeling his bike in and leaning it against the front of the house. “So I thought if I came over now you might feed me.” He grinned again and looked so much like his little boy self that Allie felt her anger dissipate at once. She reached up and kissed his flushed cheek by way of apology.

“Ugh! You’re all sweaty.” She drew him into the house through the open doorway. “Why don’t you have a shower while I go and collect Debbie from school. Then I’ll see what I can do about dinner …”

“Okay, but we need to talk about lover boy there,” he began, gesturing in the direction of Brayden’s retreat.

“It’ll have to wait. I have to go and get Debbie. I don’t want her waiting around outside school in the current climate,” she replied, heeling into her runners.

“Alright Al, but you should seriously think twice about throwing your weight around with a guy like that. Who knows what kind of backup he might have had.” The little crease had appeared between his brows.

“Good job you came along when you did then …” Allie teased. Joe laughed, and struck a pose with his fists in the air like a boxer.

“As we both know, I’m a lover not a fighter,” he protested. “If you want any punches throwing you’ll have to call Freddo … but it seems like you managed fine on your own. This time.”

“Don’t worry so much Towser,” she said, grabbing her car keys and ruffling his hair. “See you in a bit.”

⁂

So, Kaz was worried; Joe was worried; hell, Allie was worried, despite trying to convince everyone otherwise. The only one who seemed to be taking the situation in his stride was her dad. Naturally phlegmatic, he had spent twenty years in the army before leaving and marrying Allie’s mum, and his idea of a perilous situation was naturally not the same as that of a civilian. Seb ran them all as though they were members of his battalion; arranging them on his mental campaign map to best effect, seemingly unfazed by any little problems that occurred.

“Hello, Debbie dearest,” he announced on one of his daily visits. “How was school today?”

“Fine thanks,” Debbie replied, standing on tip-toes to kiss his cheek.

“Hi Dad,” Allie added, brushing past him in the hall. “Just got to finish this and then I’ll be with you …”

“No worries love, I’m not staying. I just wanted to check that everything had run smoothly today.”

“Yep. All good, although … What was that last night? Sending Kaz over?” Allie complained.

“Oh well, I didn’t have much choice. Freddo let me down at the last minute.” He had the grace to look a little contrite. “I would have come myself, but I’m too tall and too old to be sleeping on that couch. Give you a hard time did she?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, I don’t think you should complain. In protection terms, Kaz is twice as fierce as any of your brothers,” he smiled.

“True,” Allie replied wryly.

Debbie had been following the conversation and now chipped in with a question.

“How do you all know Kaz, anyway? Is she family?” She looked brightly from face to face. Allie’s dad looked uncomfortable.

“I think that’s my cue,” he rumbled. “See you tomorrow girls.”

“Bye Dad.”

“What did I say?” Debbie asked Allie after the front door clicked shut. Allie sighed and pushed down the feeling of dread that was rising in her belly. She should have told Debbie her life story before, but it was always easier to avoid what was never going to be a pleasant conversation. Allie decided that now was the time to get it done as they probably had a while before Robbie turned up.

“Come and sit down and I’ll tell you the story.” They settled themselves on the couch. “I know you like my dad and this story doesn’t exactly show him in the best light. That’s why he left. But I hope you’ll give him a chance, even after what I tell you.”

“Okay …” Debbie said slowly.

“As you know my mum died when I was only twelve. Until she got sick, life had been pretty idyllic. Mum and Dad loved each other in a crazy romantic way that thirteen years and four kids had done nothing to dampen. When she got the cancer diagnosis she sat us all down and did her best to prepare us for what was to come, but really, how can you prepare anyone for something like that? Plus the boys were all so young.” Allie took a shaky breath. Her eyes were watering already. No matter how many times she told people about her mum, she always got teary. Debbie squeezed her hand.

“You don’t have to tell me Allie …”

“It’s okay. I want to. When she died my dad got very depressed. The boys were badly affected too, of course, but being children they bounced back pretty quickly. But Dad … well, he was there physically, but emotionally ... he retreated into himself. For the next few years I pretty much raised those kids by myself. When Robbie got a bit older he figured out that I needed some help. He was a total sweetheart and almost saved the day. Freddo was not much help: always slacking off, having fun, causing trouble. Joe was just a little boy. I did everything I could to take the place of Mum for him, but I just couldn’t …”

“Joe turned out great,” Debbie interjected. “They all did. You did an amazing job.”

“Thanks,” Allie said with a sad smile. “But there came a time ... when I was seventeen ... that I wanted something for myself. I had met a girl … and I really liked her. I mean _really_ …” Allie glanced at Debbie to see if she had picked up her emphasis. Debbie just nodded. Allie had suspected that she would be chill about it. “But the problem was that I was so busy with the boys and the house and schoolwork that something had to give if I was to have any time to spend with Tamara. So I went to Dad and asked him if he could take over some of the things that I had been doing so that I could see her. Well, he gave me the third degree, and it didn’t take him long to figure out that Tamara and I were in a romantic relationship. Dad had pretty old fashioned ideas back then. He was much older than Mum; older than anyone else’s dad at school and I suppose he had values from an earlier time.”

“He doesn’t still think like that though, does he?” Debbie asked with a frown.

“No. He’s been thoroughly schooled,” Allie told her with a laugh. “Anyway, to cut it short he sent me to the country to stay with a woman he had once served with in the army. He thought he could break my connection with Tamara and that ‘Aunty Joan’ would straighten me out. She had allegedly found God and was running her own little private boot camp for gay teenagers. _Shit_. What a messed up situation. We were out at this old farm in the middle of nowhere, just me and two others, stuck with that sadistic bitch and no contact with family and friends. I was so miserable I thought I was gunna die. But, after a few months I started looking around me, planning how I could get away. I tried to persuade the others to come as well, but they were too afraid.”

“So how’d you do it? How’d you escape?” Debbie asked.

“I found an old map of the area in Aunty Joan’s study. I snatched it and worked out how far it was to the nearest main road. It was far, but I knew that if I planned it properly I could walk there and try and pick up a ride. It took me a while to get together the supplies. It was summer, so water was the biggest problem, as there was a limit to how much I could carry. When I was as ready as I could be, I just took off. Well … it turned out to be not such a good idea. I got lost in the high country, ran out of water and would have died, I reckon, if I hadn’t accidentally stumbled upon a country road and a farmer with a truck heading for the city. He dropped me in Melbourne and I headed to Tamara’s place only to find that the family had moved away. I thought about going home then but I knew, or thought I knew, that Dad would just send me back to Aunty Joan. I didn’t find out until later that Dad had been going spare ever since he learned that I’d run away.”

“What did you do?” Debbie asked. Allie shrugged. She had to tell the next bit. It would undoubtedly shock Debbie, but she had no intention of either avoiding it or going into too much detail.

“I lived on the streets. By the time Kaz found me I had built a kind of life: working as a prostitute to eat; swallowing, snorting or shooting up whatever I could buy to forget it all.” She risked a look at Debbie’s face. She had gone very pale. “Sorry Deb. I should have told you all this ages ago. You must be disappointed that I’m not who …” She was prevented from finishing that thought by Debbie throwing her arms around her enthusiastically.

“Are you crazy? I can’t believe how together you are after everything you’ve been through. I’m even more impressed than before … and all the help you give other people. How could I be disappointed with you?” Allie laughed shakily.

“Thanks Deb. Kaz saved my life by lifting me from the streets and taking me to the refuge, so the least I can do is try to help other kids who’re in a tricky situation. And it took years of therapy and NA to get to the point I’m at now.”

“And your Dad?” Debbie asked quietly.

“After a while Kaz persuaded me to contact him. He was made up; they all were. They had assumed the worst when I hadn’t come home. I stayed on with Kaz for a long time, getting my head straight …” she laughed. “My head was straight, but not the rest of me. But it turned out that it didn’t matter anymore. Robbie and Freddo had been on at Dad about it not being a big deal that I’m a lesbian and it finally sunk in. I eventually moved back home and Dad helped put me through uni; paid for my therapy. I think he’s been trying to make it up to me every day since he found out I was still alive.”

“I should think so,” Debbie retorted.

“You must be shocked. Are you okay?” Allie asked.

“Sure. It _is_ pretty shocking. It’ll take a while to sink in …”

“I, er, I haven’t told your mum any of this yet. How do you think she’ll take it?” Allie asked nervously. Debbie looked thoughtful.

“I think she’ll be okay with it. She knows you now. The _now_ you, if you see what I mean. She won’t judge you for what you did all those years ago, so long as you don’t judge her for her past …”

“You know I don’t,” Allie put in hastily. “And she knows it too. I hope.”

“Then you’ll be fine.”

“Can you leave it to me to tell her?” Allie asked. “When I think the time’s right.”

“Sure. But don’t leave it too long. I might let something slip.”

“Okay,” Allie agreed, already wondering how she would ever get up the nerve to tell her. Debbie stood up and headed towards the kitchen.

“What is there to eat? I’m starving.” Allie smiled to herself. “Oh, and one last question …” Debbie turned to face her. Allie braced herself.

“Go on …”

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”

 _That,_ Allie thought, _was a whole other story._

⁂

She angled her phone away from the sun, trying to read the time. Finally. She walked up to reception and swung open the door. She had no idea what might have happened with Bea during the past week and that terrified her. It was time to find out the score.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to keep Allie's backstory fairly brief but maybe we will get some more detail down the line. Let me know what you think. Take care all, Hitch.


	14. “The Woman Who Wanted to Live”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a plan is in hand; hands become fists; and someone is dealt a bad hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready to find out what Bea's been up to? Here we go ...

Every part of her ached, but she was upright and walking. That she was familiar with this stage of recovery ought to make it easier to bear. She scoffed quietly; the pain was familiar but the reasons for it couldn’t be more different. She was probably the best qualified person in the whole prison to take a beating in her stride, but, looking in the mirror, all she could think about was Allie and how she would feel when she saw her face, cut, swollen and livid with bruises. In a few minutes Allie would walk into the visitor’s room and see the damage that had been done; the obvious things like the bruised cheek and the gashed forehead; and the less obvious, like the hitch in her gait when she walked and the tenderness in her belly when she sat down. It would hurt her, Bea knew. But it would hurt Bea too, because Allie would see her in that light for the first time. She had looked pretty much like this a few days after every beating Harry had ever given her. Sometimes worse. But Allie had never seen her like this before. It would be sure to make her think of Bea in a different way. As a victim, maybe. But this time it couldn’t be further from the truth

⁂

“Hey, Franky, Bea …” Doreen beckoned them over to her room, away from the curiosity of the others. Not that they weren’t trusted. It was just that the fewer people who knew, the better.

“Is it happening?” Franky asked quietly. Doreen nodded nervously.

“As soon as possible. I have to let them know when she’s alone.” She glanced at Bea. Bea felt her heart pound at the thought of what was to come.

“They trust you?” Franky asked.

“Seem to. I gave them a whole thing about Toni and Kaiya. Blamed it on you, Franky. I think they swallowed it.”

“Okay, good.” Franky looked at Bea. “Whaddya think Red? Still up for Step B?”

“Too late to change my mind now I reckon,” she replied hoarsely.

“True enough. Today then?” They both nodded. “I’ll clear everyone out straight after lunch and give you the nod Dor. But if anything seems suss, let me know and I’ll call it off.”

“Righto.”

 _Today_. It didn't give Bea much time to prepare herself and no time at all to let Allie know what was going to happen. She took a deep breath and tried not to think about how bad this was going to feel … or how wrong this could all still go.

⁂

"Sup, Red? Blondie get your knickers in a twist again?" Franky asked with a leer.

"I gotta talk to you," Bea muttered, unamused. "It's urgent."

"Step this way." Franky gestured Bea into her cell and pushed the door closed behind them. 

"I need your help …"

"Well, I _am_ an expert on matters of the heart …"

"Brayden Holt has been sniffing around Debbie," she ploughed on, ignoring Franky's comments, pacing the little available space anxiously. "Jacs has gone too far this time. Whatever she's after … I don't _care_ what she's after, but my daughter is off limits." Franky folded her arms across her chest and looked thoughtful. 

"I think you'd better tell me everything."

So Bea did. Unable to keep still, she burned a path up and down Franky's cell, telling her everything that Allie had told her. 

" _Fuck_. She's up to something. This is her first move in some plan she's got," Franky fretted when Bea had finished. 

"But what plan?" Bea asked in frustration. Franky shook her head and tugged at her hair.

"I dunno, but, you know what? It doesn't matter. We just have to fuck it up."

"How?"

"With a plan of our own. Leave it with me, Red. I'll think of something. And don't worry. It sounds like Deb's in safe hands."

⁂

This was it. Step A. Bea walked onto Jacs' unit with a strong sense of the wrongness of placing herself in this position. No one was around, but Doreen had told her that Jacs was in her room. Every one of her senses heightened by the blood rushing around her body, she forced herself over to Jacs' wide open door and rapped on the frame as confidently as she could. Jacs was lying on her bed reading a magazine.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Bea asked. Jacs eyed her silently but didn’t refuse, so Bea edged into the cell a little. Noticing Jacs massaging her hand, Bea tried a little icebreaker. “I used to get RSI when I worked in the salon. Especially in the winter, it hurt like hell. I found a heat pack helps.” Jacs remained silent. “Is that arthritis?” Bea asked, nodding at Jacs' hand. Jacs didn’t reply but her eyes took on a new wariness. She didn’t like that, Bea thought. She didn't like to be reminded of her weaknesses. Or maybe she was troubled to know that other people noticed them.

“May I?” Bea asked, gesturing at a free chair. Jacs gave a tiny nod of queenly assent. Bea lifted it over and sat down, unable to do more than perch on the edge. Getting too comfortable seemed like a bad idea, just in case Jacs decided to break her own rule and get her own hands dirty for once.

“I want to talk to you about Debbie.” If Jacs was surprised by this turn of the conversation, she didn’t show it. “She’s just a kid; younger than Brayden. It’s not fair for her life to be messed up any more than it already is. I want her left out of this. So I’m begging you Jacs, please don’t do this. You know it’s not right.” During this Jacs’ eyes remained cold, her face a featureless mask save for a slight motion of her lips.

“You got guts,” she finally admitted. “Coming in here, airing your opinions. No one else has been brave enough to do that.” A smile strayed over her lips and, although her words expressed admiration, her eyes told a different story: outrage, hostility, _murder_. It took Bea all her courage to deliver the next blow.

“Well, you’ll get to go home one day, leave here. Go home to your family,” she said with a wry smile and a tilt of the head. “What sort of woman will you be?” Jacs didn’t reply, but her face set. She glared at Bea, her eyes the colour of cold tea. Bea could see that Jacs’ breath had accelerated dangerously and knew she had got to her. Bea left a meaningful beat before she stood up and walked out of the cell. Just before she left she glanced back and saw the doubt in Jacs’ eyes and the self-disgust in the set of her mouth.

_Message received._

⁂

Time for Step B. Bea poured herself a cup of water and tried not to notice the way her hand was trembling. She had thought that she had left this feeling behind when Harry had been pronounced dead. And yet here she was again, taking a beating to protect Debbie, steeling herself for a fist in the kidney or a hand around her throat. She had her back to the empty unit and every instinct she had was screaming at her to turn around; to not leave her back exposed. She fought it. It was all part of the plan that she should appear to be taken by surprise.

She heard the soft rush of feet behind her. _Here we go._ She tightened her jaw and resisted the temptation to turn and meet the attack. Suddenly a hand gripped the back of her head and her forehead bounced agonisingly off the edge of the sink. Blackness seeped in at the edges and she fell to the floor, gasping. Her heart had accelerated so hard that she thought it might rupture. Her body yearned to scoot away into a corner and protect itself as best it could, or else fight back. But she turned her mind away from that thought. That wasn’t the plan. _Be smart._ Reaching her hand up to her forehead, she brought it away bloody. Struggling to focus, she made out the faces of three women leaning over her: Jacs, Simmo and another of Jacs’ crew whose name escaped her.

“Oh please. Please don’t do this,” Bea begged them. This part was easy. She had said exactly the same thing, fruitlessly, to Harry, dozens of times.

“Get on with it,” Jacs told Simmo, her voice devoid of emotion. Bea watched Simmo smirk and so was unprepared when the other prisoner kicked her in the guts. They alternated for a while; Simmo kicked her in the back, the other woman kicked her in the stomach. They got quite a rhythm going and Bea was able to reach that state where she could anticipate each blow. She had noticed this before when Harry had been bashing her. If she knew where and when the next blow would fall it somehow made it easier to bear. Maybe because she could prepare herself, maybe because it gave her the illusion of control.

After a few more blows, Jacs sat down and made herself comfortable. In those brief moments when she could focus her eyes, Bea saw her smiling at her.

“Now one to the face,” she said placidly. Bea caught a foot under the chin and then a hand fisted into her cheekbone. _Bloody hell, that smarted._ She groaned and rolled away only for Simmo to grab her by her hoodie and hold her up, pointing her towards Jacs. “You know, Bea,” Jacs began conversationally. “I saw something in you. I was prepared to give you a chance.” The blows had stopped for the moment. Bea took the time to make an inventory of her injuries and hoped that none of them would be fatal. Her head felt weirdly light and there was a breathless pain low down in her side. Would that be a kidney? The ceasing of the violence only gave her a minor relief, but Bea took the time to catch her breath. It was a shame that she had to listen to Jacs’ nonsense, but at least she could gather herself a little. “You have balls, like Francesca, but _unlike_ her you’re a family woman. Like me, I thought. You’re a _mother_. Francesca … well, we all know Francesca is an unrepentant lezzo. But you … I thought if Brayden and little Debbie hit it off we’d be like family. That you could be my right hand; that you could carry on my legacy after I’m released. Because, let’s face it Bea, you’re going to be in here for a _long_ time.” Bea regarded her fuzzily and decided not to reply. “But you had to stuff it up didn’t you. Spirit is one thing, but you … You Bea, you don’t know when to keep your mouth shut.” She stood up and nodded to her girls. “I hope you and Francesca will be very happy together,” she smiled before walking away. Simmo released her and she slumped back to the floor. There was just time to register a close up of Simmo’s foot speeding towards her face … and then she was gone.

⁂

“Bea?”

“Bea? Can you hear me?”

“Bea? Do you know where you are?”

Darkness.

⁂

“Loss of consciousness, severe concussion, laceration to the head, bruising, no obvious sign of internal bleeding, but we’ve got a nurse coming now to clean her up,” a man’s voice intoned.

Bea felt as though the floor was swaying. She tried to open her eyes but something sticky held them closed.

“Was it Jacs Holt?” she heard Miss Bennett ask.

“Oh, no, apparently she was on the other side of the compound at the time,” replied a cultivated voice that Bea couldn’t, for the moment, place.

“Well, of course, she was,” Miss Bennett replied sardonically. “Savage what that woman’s capable of.”

“You know, Will was in the area but he didn’t see anything, so they must have been in and out pretty quick.” It was the governor, Miss Davidson, Bea realised. She tried to open her eyes again. “Looks like she’s awake. Bea. Bea, you’re in medical …” She prised one eye open, the other appeared to be swollen closed. Everything blurred and swam in a sickening way. She tried to raise her head, to wipe her eyes. A gentle hand took hers and lifted it away from her damaged face. _Allie?_ But no. Her heart sank. If only it could be Allie. Allie would do that thing she always did; a touch, a smile, a teasing word or two, and Bea would be restored. The kind of medicine she would get here in the infirmary would be of a more practical kind. “You’re going to be alright …” the voice continued. It didn’t feel that way just now. “Can you remember anything Bea? I need you to give me a name.”

A name. They always asked the same question, even though they must know by now that no woman in her right mind would lag on a fellow prisoner. Bea lay back on the bed and allowed the darkness to reclaim her.

⁂

Bea ran her finger over the butterfly stitches that held together the edges of the wound on her forehead. It looked a little better already: less angry, less puffy. It would heal. So this was Step D: heal up, get on with the rest of her life. _Life_ , hah. That was likely what she would be sentenced to when her trial came up. But she couldn’t think like that. She had to stay positive. It was the whole reason that they had cooked up this plan - to allow Jacs to be neutralized while keeping Bea’s record clean. To allow Bea to get out of here and back to Debbie as soon as possible. To get back to her life and whatever it might hold.

Barred from visiting, Debbie had written her a letter. It was full of apologies for getting involved with Brayden, for lying to Allie and for unknowingly putting Bea at risk. It was full of information about how Allie’s dad was looking after her; about Robbie, Freddo and Joe; about the burly ex-army types who were parked up outside the house. Then there was the truly alarming, but impressive, passage in which Debbie related what Joe had told her about Allie seeing off Brayden. Bea struggled to imagine it. Gentle Allie on the warpath, practically shooting laser beams from her eyes if Joe was to be believed. She shook her head. If it was true, Allie needed to be more careful.

⁂

_Dear Bea,_

_I haven’t heard from you yet, neither a phone call nor a letter. Please, if you get this, please get in touch. I’m praying that you’re safe. And take it from me, I don’t pray …_

_… You mustn’t worry about Debbie. She’s fine and she is never alone for a moment. I am doing my best to conceal how worried I am and I think it’s working. She hasn’t mentioned you not phoning, not since Monday, anyway. If she thinks of Brayden she doesn’t speak of him. But she doesn’t seem heartbroken, so I guess it was just a crush or infatuation. She is blaming herself, I’m sure, for this whole situation. I’m trying to walk the line between making sure she knows that what she did was foolish and helping her to see that she was manipulated by some canny operators who could easily have tricked someone older and more experienced than she. In any case, her appetite remains healthy - so I think you can rest assured that she’ll be fine ..._

_… You’re being smart like we talked about, aren’t you?_ _~~I can’t help but imagine all sorts of terrible scenarios, but~~ _ _I am still hoping to get a call or a letter before I see you next. Until then,_

_All my love, Allie._

Bea felt terrible that Allie had been so worried and she had been unable to reassure her, but she had only got her post this morning. A letter from Allie and another from Debbie were lying on her bunk when she was released from the infirmary. Just seeing Allie’s loopy hand on the envelope made Bea’s heart turn in her chest. Liz watched her face change and immediately apologised.

“Sorry love. I wanted to bring them with me but Smiles wouldn’t let me.” Liz, as peer worker, had been the only visitor she was allowed whilst she was recovering. Still, she had managed to relay messages between herself and Franky, and it was in this way that Bea had learned of the success of their scheme. It had worked just as Franky had predicted. Step A had been for Bea to piss Jacs off enough for her to attack her. Step B was for Jacs to nearly, but not quite, do Bea some permanent damage. And Step C had been for Franky to take revenge for Bea’s attack by inflicting some serious damage on Jacs. To which end, Franky had lured Jacs into the gym and repeatedly crushed her hand in one of the weight machines. After that, she had been sure to let all the women know that the mangled hand was a punishment for attacking Bea who had only been defending her daughter. Such an argument was a powerful one in an institution filled with women who were kept apart from their children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews.

So now Jacs was in disgrace, whilst Franky and Bea were the heroes of the moment. It might not last, but for the moment Franky was operating the steam press and all the women considered her to be Top Dog. Simmo and the others were lurking around the edges of things, looking daggers at them, but making no move to regain control for Jacs in time for her release from the hospital.

But Franky ... well, Franky was overjoyed with her new position. Her usual cockiness was elevated to a new high. She was all smiles, bestowing favours on some, keeping others in check, and more affectionate than ever with her friends and Kim. As the obvious candidate for having inflicted the damage on Jacs she had been summoned to see Miss Davidson but she had returned to the unit wreathed in smiles, apparently not only having got away with it, but having been given the blessing of the governor to keep the peace from now on.

“I even got her to agree to look at the budget to see if she could invite the _spunky_ Dr Westfall to work with us poor women a bit more. I’m at the top of the patient list, obviously,” Franky had crowed on her return, causing Kim to pout with jealousy. But when Franky turned the full glare of her charisma back on her, Kim was only too willing to be distracted as Franky took her hand and led her into her cell.

⁂

Bea rubbed her aching shoulder and made a few tentative stretches, hoping to loosen her bruised muscles a little. If she could move a bit more freely maybe Allie wouldn’t be too mad at her. Who was she kidding? Allie was going to be furious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full disclosure: this chapter is my own twisted version of the events in S1, ep.7, so if some of the dialogue seems familiar, that's because it is. Hitch ❤


	15. "The Right Kind of Medicine"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some aches and pains are soothed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I hope you are well. Covid seems to be getting worse again in some areas, so I hope you are all managing to stay safe and that you're not too down. Here's the next chapter.

_A sight for sore eyes._ That’s what Bea thought as she met Allie’s lucent gaze across the visitor’s room, giving her a momentary sense of respite. And her eyes _were_ sore. As was her knee, shoulder, belly and almost every part of her. She looked like hell. _A sore sight_ , that’s what she was. Even if she hadn’t been aware of all her bruises with every tiny movement, even if she hadn’t looked at her own face in the mirror just a few minutes ago, she would know exactly how terrible she looked just by looking at Allie as Allie looked at her. Her heart contracted wretchedly as Allie turned her eyes away, apparently unable to look at her. She couldn’t blame her, she wasn’t a pretty sight. But the next moment Allie refocussed on her and the pain had been replaced by relief and compassion. Bea hung her head.

The next moment Allie was there in front of her. Bea could see her turquoise runners, their colour a little dimmed with wear, but she couldn’t quite manage to look her in the face. Allie’s arms came up and she clumsily initiated a hesitant embrace, clearly fearful of causing her any further pain.

“It’s okay,” Bea mumbled. “You won’t hurt me.” That wasn’t true but it was the best kind of white lie; the kind that might allow Allie to believe she was less damaged than she was. So Allie drew her in, heedless of her injuries, and Bea pressed her lips together so that she wouldn’t make a sound and held herself stiffly to protect her tender abdomen. Once again she felt that desire to sag against Allie and allow her to support her. But where would such a surrender lead? An internal tug of war ensued and Allie could obviously sense her conflict.

“For God’s sake,” she muttered in irritation. “Let me …” She trailed off. Bea wondered what she had been going to say. _Let me hold you. Let me help you. Let me comfort you._ Any of those would be enough to make her come unravelled right here in public. “Bea, you’re shaking. Let me take your weight,” Allie finally demanded. It was only then that Bea realised that her good leg, her relatively good leg, was trembling as it struggled to support her body. It had been only a few hours since she had left the infirmary and today had been by far her most active day since it, the beating, had happened, and her muscles were already worn out. Bea blinked her sore eyes. She couldn’t afford to fall apart in front of all these people. There was too much interest in her already, ever since … _it_ had happened.

“I can’t,” Bea whispered tearfully into Allie’s ear. Allie just tightened her grip and Bea found herself supported in her arms, like it or not. And for a moment Bea gave in to it. And although it was wrong, wrong time, wrong place, Bea found that she _did_ like it. It was an immense solace, a balm, to be held and supported like this; it was hard to remember a time when she had felt so safe. She caught the relieved sob in her throat before it could reach her lips and squeezed her eyes shut on the tears. “Don’t …” Bea began. But she didn’t want Allie to misunderstand. “I can’t be seen to be weak,” she croaked into her ear. “You’re gunna make me cry …” She felt Allie nod against her, but still she held on for a long, precious moment more before drawing back. 

⁂

Allie looked at Bea and her stomach curled into a tight ball. A physical pang ran through her body so that she had to look away before she could make a fool of herself by crying out or folding over as though she had been punched in the stomach. _Bloody hell_. She took a breath and returned her eyes to Bea. Tears started up onto her lids and she blinked them away, impatiently: how dare she be upset when it was Bea who was hurt? Bea's face was a mess of bruises, her forehead gashed and held together with tape, one eye swollen and marbled with blood. But she was standing and, presumably, walking, and to Allie that made her more magnificent than ever. Ignoring the knocking of her heart against her ribs she hurried across the room to meet her. All she wanted was to take her in her arms and make her better. But how to tackle that without making her injuries worse?

"It's okay. You won't hurt me," Bea mumbled. 

But Allie had noticed the way she was holding herself and realised that the visible injuries were not the whole story; they were maybe only the preface to a lengthy tale. But she knew that it would help Bea more than hurt her, to be held and shown love after suffering such a beating. So she gripped her as fiercely as she would have if Bea had only cut her finger or stubbed her toe. She gripped her as tightly as she dared because how else could she let her know how bad she felt that she was hurt? Bea was stiff and unyielding in her arms, despite her words.

"For God's sake, let me …" Allie began. Why did she have to be so stubborn? Now was not the time to hold back. She had been going to say, "Let me make it better," but caught herself at the last moment, fearing Bea's scorn. She settled for something more acceptably prosaic. "Bea, you’re shaking. Let me take your weight."

"I can't." But Allie could hear it in her voice, that she very much wanted to allow someone to take her weight, _the weight,_ the burden: the pain, the worry, the fear. Was it Allie that she wanted, or would anyone do? Regardless, Allie tightened her arms, pressing Bea to her as though she could make the top layer of their skins disappear and affect a kind of mingling so that their bloodstreams could eddy and merge. She imagined her plasma and platelets rushing in and doing their work, knitting up Bea’s wounds; her white blood cells leaching away the waste blood in Bea’s bruises, calming them from purple to green to yellow.

“Don’t … I can’t be seen to be weak.” And Allie remembered where they were. “You’re gunna make me cry,” Bea pleaded. Allie nodded but held her for just a beat longer before she let her go and watched her seat herself with a kind of pained dignity that squeezed at her heart. While Bea was undeniably wounded, what had been done to her appeared not to have reduced her in any way. In fact, Allie thought she’d never found her more impressive than right now.

“What the hell happened?” Allie whispered urgently. “Did Jacs do this?” Bea gave a lopsided shrug, favouring her left shoulder.

“She didn’t touch me herself. She watched while two of her crew worked me over. But she gave the orders … and a bit of a commentary on my shortcomings.” Allie blanched. How could she be so flippant about it?

“You’ve seen a doctor though? What did they say?”

“Yeah. I only got out of medical this morning. Just a concussion, bruises … this cut,” she gestured to her forehead. “No internal bleeding. So I’ll be right.”

“Concussion can be serious,” Allie protested.

“That’s why they kept me in for a few days," Bea replied defensively. "To keep an eye on me.”

“How did it come to this? I thought you and Franky were going to deal with it.” Bea gave a rueful smile and looked at her hands.

“This is it. This is how we dealt with it,” she gave a gesture that took in her battered face and body. “All part of the plan.” She met Allie’s eyes then, and Allie could see the worry there. _Part of the plan?_ That made no sense.

“You'd better explain how you getting the ‘Fight Club’ look could have been part of any plan.”

⁂

Bea took a breath and began, relating the whole thing in a whisper. She knew Allie was going to hate what she heard and be angry with her but she wouldn’t even try to hide what she had done. At their last visit it had come to her forcefully that Allie and herself were a team. They protected Debbie together and this beating was part of the cocoon the two of them were weaving between them.

“We knew Jacs had some kind of plan for me, but we didn’t know what it was. And Franky said we just had to mess it up and make sure that she wasn’t in any position to retaliate. So, the first thing was to get a spy in her camp: that was Doreen, who was pretending to be pissed off at Franky because of Kayia being sent to live with her grandma. Then I had to do or say something that would get Jacs so riled up that she would attack me. So, I went to her cell to tell her to back off from Debbie. So far, fair enough, right? Well, she didn’t think so. And to top it off I also kinda suggested that she was a terrible mother; that even when she was released her family would be a mess because of all the bad things she’s done. I figured that would be the worst thing anyone could say because … well, you know.” Allie nodded, but Bea could see the stitch of concern between her brows.

“Then we knew she would come for me,” Bea continued. “It was just a matter of when and where, and that’s where Doreen came in …”

“Hold on, hold on,” Allie interrupted. “So, you’re saying you agreed to this?” she asked, her frown deepening. “Caused it to happen, even?” Bea nodded, knowing she must look a little sheepish. “You agreed that the best thing would be if Jacs beat you to a bloody pulp …” Allie’s voice had gone up an octave in her incredulity. Bea made a shushing gesture but that only generated an even more ferocious glower from Allie.

“I know it sounds …” Bea began.

 _“Insane?”_ Allie asked. _“Suicidal?”_ Bea sighed and examined her fingernails briefly.

“Look. _It worked._ I’m going to be fine and Jacs is powerless now …” she explained.

“You could have been killed,” Allie hissed, her eyes illuminated with a cold flame that almost made Bea recoil. Bea knew she was right. She had taken a calculated risk. Jacs could easily have brought a shiv or a screwdriver and the whole thing would have ended very differently. “Did you even think about Debbie?” Allie asked plaintively.

“Debbie is _all_ I was thinking about. I took this beating to protect her!” Allie gaped for a moment and then pressed her lips together tightly. Her eyes were quenched now by a sheen of tears. “Listen … just let me finish, and you’ll see …” Allie nodded and allowed her head to fall forwards resignedly. Bea sighed and began again. “Jacs asked Doreen to keep an eye on me and report back when I was on my own. Because we could control what Dor told her we knew exactly when it was going to happen. I could prepare myself and we arranged for the girls to come in and find me in good time.” Allie nodded, apparently pleased that some small safety measure had been put in place. “So once I’m in medical, Franky lets it be known that I was bashed by Jacs and that the only thing I did to deserve it was to try to protect my daughter. Now that’s some bad PR in a women’s prison, where lots of the women are worried about their kids day and night. Franky is called upon to right the wrong. And she does. Jacs is out of action, she’s lost the women, Franky is everyone’s hero for avenging my beating and she becomes the new Top Dog.”

“And this helps Debbie?” Allie asked with a hopeful glance.

“Maybe not immediately. Jacs is in the hospital for now, but once she’s back she’ll have to contact Brayden and tell him to back off. The whole point of the Debbie and Brayden thing was to get me to join her crew, apparently. Now that there’s no chance of that she’ll recall him as soon as she can. She knows what Franky is capable of if she doesn’t play nice.”

“What did Franky do to her?” Allie asked.

“Better you don’t know the details,” Bea told her. It was bad enough that Bea had to imagine those bones crunching and splintering. Allie didn’t need that ugliness in her head; she didn’t want Allie to think of that violence and pain as the price for Debbie’s freedom and safety.

“And how do we know she won’t come back at you when she’s healed?” Allie asked with a note of fear in her voice. And as much as Bea didn't want to worry her she felt as though she owed her the truth. 

“I guess we don’t. But she’s on the back foot for now, and if it turns out that Vinnie divorces her, she’s done. Her Holt name won’t mean anything and I imagine that Vinnie will have plans of his own for Brayden.”

“Well, I want it on record that I think it was a stupid plan …” Allie said, looking at the table top, Bea’s hands, everything but Bea’s face. But it was there in her voice: a note of forgiveness, or at least acceptance.

“Noted,” Bea said with a tentative smile. And her heart filled gladly as Allie raised her eyes to look at her and she saw that the last of the anger had fled and the tropical gleam had returned.

“Stupid _and_ risky,” Allie continued mildly.

“But I did what you said,” Bea insisted, swallowing dryly. “I was so afraid … when I heard them coming for me ...”

“Because it reminded you of Harry coming for you,” Allie supplied. Bea nodded, her pulse accelerating because Allie understood; didn't need the reason for her dread spelling out.

“And I wanted to either hide or fight them. But I kept my nerve and allowed it to play out as we’d planned. I kept my head.” She held Allie’s gaze as best she could because she wanted her to know that she really did listen to her advice and appreciated her injections of common sense.

“This really wasn’t what I had in mind when I said that,” Allie protested with a thin smile.

“I know. And when I asked you to keep a close watch on Debbie I wasn’t expecting you to get into a face off with Brayden.” Allie's eyes flew up to Bea's in surprise. 

"You heard about that, then?"

⁂

"Yes, I heard," Bea said with a kind of emphasis that made Allie want to squirm. She held herself still.

"He just showed up at the house," Allie said with a nonchalance she didn't feel. "What was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Probably _not_ take him on single handed. You could have ended up with a face like mine." Allie tried to decide if Bea was really mad at her or not. After regarding her expression for a moment she decided not. Proud maybe. Impressed even. She shrugged and took a chance.

"A face like yours? Well, even with the bruises and the blood and everything, you're still looking pretty hot Bea… " Allie made sure to give her a very direct look and keep her face straight. Sure, she was teasing, but she was certainly not joking, and she wanted Bea to know that. Now it was Bea's turn to squirm. And blush. And look away. “Maybe _I_ should get some bruises…” Allie added.

“These are going to turn all kinds of pretty colours soon,” Bea countered, after a moment of deliberation, pointing to her face. “They’ll liven up this dull old mug. But your charming face can get along without any improvements.” Allie blinked in surprise and then felt a grin commandeer her lips. _Brava_. Allie had to give her credit for overcoming her usual reticence. And Bea was smiling shyly, embarrassed to be flirting back, but pleased with herself too. Allie felt like drumming her feet against the floor in happiness, or getting up and dancing. She wished she could get Bea up and dancing: she would be her crutch and it wouldn’t matter how clumsy they were because they would be dancing with undiluted delight. Allie would hold her tight around the waist and Bea would laugh with embarrassment and allow her hair to curtain her face to hide her blushes. And Allie would swing her around with abandon because they were both still here; they were together, for this moment, and that shy smile made Allie feel like anything was possible.

⁂

“Allie, you’re staring,” Bea said dryly, interrupting whatever daydream she had disappeared into. Allie blinked and then smiled, apparently unembarrassed. “Where’d you go?” she asked, not even trying to hide her amusement. 

“That would be telling,” Allie replied, teasingly, looking her up and down. “But somewhere nice…” Bea felt herself heating up at the implication. She shook her head mock ruefully.

“You’re like the Duracell bunny,” Bea commented. Allie raised her brows questioningly. “You never stop.” Allie made a hum of agreement.

“I do have incredible stamina,” she said seriously, her tongue momentarily appearing at the corner of her mouth. Bea chuckled and ducked her head. Was this just a bit of fun? she wondered. Her skin felt hot and her belly felt weirdly liquid. Was she feeling the after effects of the beating? It could be a fever and incipient nausea. What if Allie was flirting in earnest? Was she getting in too deep? She sighed in frustration. Why did she have to be such a dag? If only she could read Allie as well as Allie read her. And then Allie’s hand was on her wrist.

“Bea.” She looked up and lost her breath. Allie was looking at her with such compassion that she felt her stomach settle and her shoulders drop. She didn’t know how or why, but this was the medicine she needed. If she could she would prescribe it for herself: a daily dose of Allie. Allie was the salve she needed to form new healthy skin over her old wounds, the ones that Harry had inflicted on her and the ones she had inflicted on herself; and only Allie could administer the inoculation that would allow her to survive this place and come out the other side with a chance of recovery. She smiled at Allie and for once allowed herself to do so with nothing held back. She took Allie’s hand and held it.

“I’m okay,” she told her. “I’m going to be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that. As ever, let me know your thoughts. Take care, Hitch.


	16. "A Little Sleep"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which explanations are made and sleep is hard to come by.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I hope you are all well. Here is Chapter 16.

Allie sighed as she checked her reflection in the rear-view mirror. She looked pale. Her period had started this morning and she felt heavy, her limbs dragging, everything requiring extra effort. As ever, she prayed that it would not be a bad one this time - the same prayer she had said every month since she was a teenager and, even though she had not had a truly bad period for a few years now, the fear and expectation were always there. She thought about Bea and their last meeting and smiled. Such memories never failed to redirect her thoughts into a happier channel. She remembered how Bea had held her hand and smiled at her; how she had responded to her flirtatious comments; how she had allowed her to hold her, to really hold her, without restraint. It had all seemed different to their other meetings. Bea had needed her, maybe she always had, but her low ebb had allowed Allie to see it clearly for the first time. And Bea’s letter! She had admitted to looking forward to hearing from Allie and had said plainly that her visit had made her feel better. And those comments about her hair were … what? Complimentary? Flirtatious? Was it possible that Bea’s thoughts were now meandering in the same direction as Allie’s? That idea made her heart rate pick up a little as she collected her bag from the passenger seat and headed towards the prison reception. She had had a turbulent week and she was counting on Bea’s having been smoother.

⁂

Allie had known that it was only a nightmare even when she was in the thick of the most horrifying part of it. But it didn't help that she knew. Her feet were still stuck as though they had sunk into a silty riverbed, her eyes were still wide with fear, her blood was still rushing hectically through her veins. And she watched. She couldn't move, not even to look away. She couldn't stop what was happening, not even when Bea pleaded with her. She watched. Two faceless, teal uniformed women kicked Bea over and over. Bea writhed on the floor and Allie watched, not unmoved but unmoving. A third woman also watched, wearing a cruelly amused face that morphed queasily from that of an old primary school teacher, through an approximation of Aunty Joan and finally settled as something like Glenn Close made-up as Cruella de Vil. Bones cracked, skin split, muscle tore, and Allie could only watch.

The next night had been even worse. This time she was one of the attackers. Bea just took her beating, her eyes locked on Allie the whole time, her expression one of pained disbelief as Allie held her down and allowed Cruella to punch her in the guts, slap her across the cheek and spit in her face. Why was she helping them? She knew she didn't want to but some twisted dream logic had placed her in this role and she had to act it out. After a particularly harsh blow, Allie awoke, panting, in her darkened bedroom, heart pounding, mouth dry. Swinging her legs out of bed she dropped her face into her hands and wept, trying to remind herself that Bea was okay. Allie hadn’t been there when she was beaten and she hadn’t taken any part in it. These nightmares were just her unconscious mind trying to make sense of what had happened. How she yearned for those earlier nights with their straightforward dreams of longing, of holding Bea the whole night long; how she wished that she could return to those times.

On the third night she was the one being bashed and Bea was the one watching from behind a locked gate. The scene was completely silent as though a cosmic mute button had been pressed, but Allie could read lips well enough to see that Bea was shouting her name, shaking the bars in her desperation to get to her. But Allie was okay, she really was. She wanted to let her know that it was fine but she didn’t have a speaking role, so she smiled at Bea. She didn’t mind. It hurt, but she was taking it so that Bea wouldn’t have to. Her lip split, her nose crunched but still she smiled and let it go on until her head bounced against the floor and the scene faded to black. When she awoke in the morning Allie decided that, of the three, this one had been the least awful.

⁂

As soon as Allie had got Debbie into the house in the afternoon of the day of her visit with Bea, she sat her down to try and tell her what had happened to her mum. This was complicated by Bea’s stipulation that, although she would have to be told about the beating, she should try to conceal that the situation with Brayden was the reason for it, and that Bea had offered herself up as part of a plan to put the Holts in their place. Allie believed in being honest with her young charges but felt as though she had to take Bea's wishes seriously. In this case, she reasoned, one hundred percent honesty might give Debbie more of a problem than a glossing over of certain details. But did she really believe that? Or was she telling herself that to make it easier?

"I saw your mum today Deb."

"Oh yeah? How is she? Will I be allowed to visit next week?"

“I don’t know. Your mum said she’d let me know. It depends on one or two things.” Allie steeled herself. "Deb … Your mum is fine … but I have to tell you about something that happened last week. She got bashed by a couple of the other prisoners…"

"What happened?" Debbie asked, looking startled. “How bad is it?”

"Cuts and bruises. She spent a few days in the prison’s medical wing. She’s going to be okay. As to what happened … Well, she got caught up in something. Prison is … it's like that sometimes. Things flare up. She was put in a difficult position. But the most important thing is that she's not so badly hurt…" Allie trailed off, realising that, in her bid to preserve Bea’s secret, she was explaining nothing. She hated not being able to tell Debbie the truth but she understood why Bea didn't want her to know. She didn't want her to blame herself. Bea had taken this beating willingly, just like she had sometimes done in the past, to protect her daughter. Allie supposed that Debbie didn't need to know this right now. It’s true that it would only make things harder for her, but Allie wished she could tell her the truth. _Welcome to co-parenting,_ she thought wryly.

"This is because of me and Brayden, isn't it?" Debbie demanded with narrowed eyes. Allie sighed inwardly. She might have known that Debbie would be able to work it out on her own. 

"Indirectly, maybe …" Allie hedged. 

"You don't have to shelter me from this Allie," Debbie replied hotly. "If this is the result of some stupid decisions I made then … then, well … I guess I'm gunna have to live with that."

"Me and your mum, we just don't want you to blame yourself. You might have made some … dubious decisions but so have your mum and me. I should never have let you go to the prison on your own. I don't know what I was thinking …"

"I wanted to. And you were letting me be independent …" Debbie interrupted. 

"Yeah, well … you weren't to know who Brayden was or what he was like. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, or so they say. We all need to look at the bigger picture. Your mum's okay and she seems confident that the danger is passing." Allie was silent for a moment, watching Debbie wrestle with her thoughts. 

"Why couldn't the guards protect her?" Debbie asked, balling her hands in frustration. "Surely that's what they're there for?" Allie nodded sadly.

"Yeah, but they can't be everywhere at once. But the doctor and nurse took good care of her. She's fine, really, well on the road to recovery…" Allie looked away and hoped that at least was the truth.

⁂

**Dear Allie,**

**Thanks for your letter. I don’t think you can possibly understand how much I look forward to your updates about Debbie and what you both have been up to. Your little stories cheer me up a lot and make me laugh. Especially this week. Because, although I am out of medical, I am not back at work so I have a lot of time on my hands. Mr Jackson let me go to the education centre and pick up some books and Franky has lent me one of hers. Reading is pretty much all I can do. Watching TV makes my head hurt and my eyes water at the moment. I think my brain is still settling down after that knock it got!**

**So you don’t need to worry about me not taking it easy. Please don’t follow up on your threat to write to Franky. She gets so much “fan mail” already a letter from you would make her truly unbearable.**

**The someone we spoke of when I last saw you is back now. We have had a word and her boy will be otherwise occupied from now on. So he will not have time to visit either a certain girl or his mum. On the subject of visits, could you please ask Debbie if she would like to make a visitation request for next week? I miss her and would like to see her and there will be no problems now. Did you manage to explain to her that I will look a little dinged up? I hope so because I would not like to shock her with my now green and yellow face!**

**I hope you will be able to visit as usual this week. I’m a bit useless at remembering to thank you when you're here, but I really look forward to seeing a friendly face. I was in a bad way when I last saw you but you made me feel better, which you always do, but for that hour it was like I was hardly injured at all. I don’t know how you find the time, what with Debbie and work, to come and see me. You must tell me if it’s too much. I don’t want to be a drain on you ...**

⁂

Allie waved Bea’s letter at Debbie.

“Deb. If you want to go and visit your mum this week, she says it’s okay,” Allie said with a grin.

“Really?” Debbie gave an excited bounce before sobering with a frown. “It's not still too dangerous?”

“Things seem to have been resolved for now. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be careful. Don’t you want to go and see her?” Allie asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course!” Debbie replied with a relieved huff.

“Then I’ll drive you there and wait for you. Brayden won’t be around, so you don’t need to worry that you might see him.” Allie wasn’t even sure if this possibility had occurred to Debbie but felt that she needed to spell it out just in case.

“How can you be so sure?” Debbie asked faintly.

“Things have been sorted out between your mum and Brayden’s. He’s going to leave you alone now. What he tried to do, it wasn’t really anything to do with you. His mum had asked him to try to get close to you because she wanted to get some influence over your mum. So you mustn't think that there was something in you that made him try to manipulate you and control you. He was just doing what he was told.” That was as near to the whole truth as Allie dared to come. She hoped that Bea would not be annoyed at her for saying even this much.

“So … he never even liked me?” Debbie asked in a small voice.

“I don’t know sweetheart,” Allie said quietly and put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Maybe he did, but that didn’t stop him from writing those horrible messages. And it didn’t stop him from trying to persuade you to get involved in drugs. But you were too strong for him. You saw through him and walked away. That takes courage. Something that you and your mum have in common.” Debbie smiled weakly. "I know you’re worried about her, but Franky, one of the women your mum is friends with, is in charge of the prisoners now. She'll be keeping your mum safe. You don't need to worry." Allie sold this small comfort as best she could, though she wasn't convinced herself that Franky would be able to keep Bea safe. If only she could meet her, get a measure of her, maybe her mind would be eased.

"So …" Debbie began. "Can we lose the bodyguards now? Can I get back to normal?"

"Soon. We'll keep things in place for now. I want to check with your mum before we stand everyone down.” Debbie looked pleased that she might soon be able to resume her usual activities, and Bea appeared to be satisfied that Debbie was safe, but Allie was in no position to take any chances and wouldn’t rush into anything.

⁂

Then, after those disconcerting nightmares, came the most wonderful and ridiculous dream. Allie found herself in a dimly lit and deserted hospital ward, walking past bed after empty bed. In the distance she could see that one bed was occupied and she hurried towards it, knowing it contained Bea. But when she got there and drew back the sheet, it was empty. Then there was an abrupt scene change and she found herself in a small medical consultation room. It was dark, only a light by the head of the bed allowed her to see her surroundings. At first the room appeared to be empty, but when she looked again Bea was lying in the bed. Her face was bruised and cut exactly as Allie had seen it only a few days before. She was lying on her side and appeared to be sleeping. The next thing Allie knew she was lying curled up to her back. Being very gentle, she carefully draped her arm around Bea’s waist and settled herself to sleep feeling relieved to have found her and content to be close to her.

Time appeared to jump forward, or maybe back. Now Bea was sitting up in bed and Allie was standing next to her. Bea’s injuries were new and fresh, blood oozing from the gash on her forehead. Allie took a metal dish off the table beside her and swabbed at the cut. Bea winced and Allie noticed that the cotton wool came away pink with blood.

“Sorry,” said dream Allie.

“It’s okay nurse,” Bea replied. Allie looked down at herself and noticed she was dressed in light blue scrubs. Looking back up she discovered that Bea’s forehead was now dressed and that her bruises were already fading. Bea was looking at her. “Don’t you think you’d better check my heart?” she asked with a hesitant look and a shy smile. Allie took an enormous gulp of air, excited by Bea’s invitation and shocked at the liquid sensation that it elicited in her belly. Within the convenience of the dream, she found a stethoscope around her neck and inserted the earpieces in her ears. She reached out and drew Bea’s hospital gown down a little at the neck. She placed the end against her skin, but her own heartbeat was the only thing she could hear. “A little further down I think,” Bea husked, placing her hand over Allie’s and dragging the stethoscope lower. Allie swallowed dryly as more of Bea’s chest came into view.

The scene changed again. The stethoscope was gone and they were standing face to face in the darkened room. Allie meditated on Bea’s sombre eyes. They glistened darkly in the limited light and Allie found that she was drawn in by the barely understood intention she saw there.

“Are you sure?” Bea asked her in a whisper. Dream Allie nodded, seeming to know what the question had been, and Bea reached out her hands and held her face between them. “You’re shaking,” she commented.

“It’s cold,” Allie replied, though she knew that was not the reason why she trembled under Bea’s hands.

“It’s not cold,” Bea told her, a little scornfully, and drew Allie’s face down until their lips met.

And, although it was only a dream, Allie felt herself melt under Bea’s mouth. Her lips were soft, as Allie had known they would be, but also demanding, which she had not suspected. And although Allie was in reality that little bit taller than Bea, now, in the dream, she was just enough shorter than Bea so that Bea’s head was bent over hers, dominating the kiss, holding her up with one steadying arm looped around her waist, the other hand gliding up her rib cage towards her breast. Allie gave herself up to the embrace, parting her lips for Bea’s questing tongue, allowing her head to fall back under her increasing ardour…

And then she awoke. Allie had never hated her alarm clock more than in that moment. After slamming down the snooze button she lay there for a minute, allowing her heart rate to return to normal, cataloguing the fizzing in her nerve endings, the sensitivity of her skin and the ache that emanated from between her legs. Rolling over she groaned into her pillow. _Bea_ . She'd never felt more frustrated, and yet so delighted at the same time. Because for those few minutes they had been together in the way that Allie had always wanted. And it had felt _so real._

⁂

**… I had another session with Dr Westfall. She was worried about my injuries, wanted to know if I needed isolating for my own safety. I told her it would be fine from now on. I may not be the most sociable person but I don’t think I could stand being on my own until my trial. The rest of H1 - Franky, Kim, Booms, Liz and Dor - I really need them to keep me sane.**

**I saw Josephine Pym as well. Still no trial date but she has got down a lot of my testimony now and is starting to get the witnesses lined up. I know she wants to interview Debbie but I dread the thought of it. She might try to set something up soon, so look out for an email. It would really set my mind at rest if you would be with her when she talks to her.** ~~**I’m sure**~~ **I suppose she’ll be considerate of Debbie’s age, but you know lawyers.**

**I’m going to stop now because the girls will be back from work unit in a minute. It’s become a habit for me to get them all a cuppa ready and open up some biccies. Then we’ll have a bit of a yarn, and Franky will wind Boomer up and Liz will try to keep the peace.**

**See you soon, Bea.**

**P.S. Sorry I missed out on your dancing. I can see you in one of those flapper dresses. Maybe I could shingle your hair one day? Or finger waves would be very flattering on you ...**

⁂

Allie had no sooner signed in and deposited her bag in a locker before she heard her name being called.

“Ms Novak?” 

Allie looked up. It was the guard called Mr Jackson. Bea always said he was one of the nicest of the screws but right now the expression on his face suggested otherwise.

“Is there a problem?” Allie asked him.

“You’re here to visit Bea Smith, correct?” he asked brusquely. Allie could only nod mutely, panic already setting in. “Would you come with me please?” He started towards the door and Allie trailed in his wake.

“What’s this about?” she asked, trying to keep the frantic note out of her voice. Another officer was coming towards them along the corridor. Mr Jackson slowed a little to reply.

“If you still want to visit the inmate you’ll need to consent to a random search.” Allie must have looked worried. “It’s just a formality,” he explained, standing back to allow the other guard to pass them. “If you’ll come into Search Room 1 ... I’ll get a female officer to come and administer the search.”

Allie could think of nothing she wanted less than to allow some stranger to pat her down. Then she had a sudden thought. Would this be a strip search? _Jesus._ Today of all days.

Mr Jackson had watched the other officer disappear down the corridor. He held open the door to a nearby room.

“Miss Novak?”

After a slight pause Allie stepped inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got in a right muddle in the scenes between Allie and Debbie and I never did get them to come out right. But I hope you enjoyed the other bits. Chapter 17 is underway - look out for it next week. Hitch ❤


	17. "Vertigo"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some dizzying thoughts and a bout of light-headedness leave someone in a precarious position.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Thank you for your kudos and kind comments on last week's chapter - they made me feel better. Here is the next installment.

Bea wanted to pace. Every impulse begged her to get up and move. She took a deep breath and resisted. A hair's breadth from jumping to her feet, she gripped the edge of the examination table instead and made a paddling motion with her ankles to relieve the feeling.

She knew she had come a long way recently. Weirdly, she felt that she had the beating to thank for that. And maybe Franky’s book. And Allie’s letters. And Dr Westfall, of course. She groaned internally from the humiliation of needing so much intervention. When had she become this patchwork doll sewn together by a band of seamstresses? She sighed and deliberately let it go. She also had the beating to thank, or blame, for her current crisis. She was no Victorian lady prone to fits of swooning, but somehow the anticipation of Allie’s impending visit had combined with the after effects of her concussion to make her head swim so that she hit the floor in a spectacular fashion. If she was now prevented from seeing Allie she didn’t know what she would do. She tightened her jaw and tried not to even consider it as a possibility.

She felt fine. No dizziness, nothing. The forgetfulness from a few days ago seemed to have disappeared. But here she was, back in medical, waiting for the doctor to give his verdict on her fitness or otherwise to attend the visitor’s centre today. _What would she do?_ she asked herself in desperation, _if he told her no?_ What _wouldn’t_ she do, she thought, determination on the rise.

⁂

Franky gave her a perplexed look and rapped her on the head with her knuckles.

“Hello... Earth to Bea … Next month. I _just said_ …” Bea intercepted the warning look that Liz was sending Franky’s way, along with an almost imperceptible shake of the head. It was sweet that Liz was trying to save her feelings, but she knew that this was not the first time this week that her memory had let her down. This forgetfulness was a delayed response to the blow on her head, as were the spinning and tilting sensations she sometimes felt and the slight clumsiness she had noticed. And maybe her eyes were a bit more sensitive to bright light than usual. She just had to accept that, whilst the rest of her was healing quickly, her brain was going to take a bit longer. Bea noticed that Franky was watching her intently and when their eyes met, Franky threw an arm around her shoulders impulsively and gave her a squeeze. “Early onset dementia is nothing to be ashamed of Red,” she joked. Bea made a disparaging sound and gave her a shove.

“Rack off Franky. Even with dementia I’m sharper than you!”

“Hah!” Franky responded with a quick grin. “But seriously,” she added, leading Bea away from the others. “Maybe you should have the doc check you over again. In case he missed something …” Bea pulled a face.

“Nah, I’ll be right. Hey, I’ve got a session with Dr Westfall tomorrow,” Bea replied, knowing that this was a certain way of distracting her friend. Predictably, Franky’s green eyes hazed over.

“Got my first session the day after,” Franky said dreamily. After a moment an enormous grin split her face causing her dimples to appear. Bea looked at the excited gleam in her eyes and huffed out a laugh.

“Well, you’d better bloody behave yourself,” she retorted. “Dr Westfall’s helping with my case. The last thing I need is her getting fired for being caught in a compromising position with one of the inmates.” Franky held her hands up palms outwards, a wolfish grin on her face.

“Total gentleman, me,” she said looking heavenwards. “I won’t lay a hand on her … unless she asks me to, of course.”

“She’s a professional through and through, from what I’ve seen,” Bea told her soberly. “Don’t get your hopes up for anything more.”

“No, well. We’ll see … women generally find me irresistible after all. And if it comes to nothing … well, an hour in the company of a beautiful woman is a pleasure in itself.”

“What are you implying about the present company?” Bea asked, nudging Franky and nodding towards Boomer who was using her index finger to extract something from one of her back teeth. “You’re surrounded by beauties twenty-four seven.” Franky guffawed causing Boomer to look up at them blankly.

“Oh, hey. I’ve got something for you …” Franky grabbed her by the upper arm and led her over to her cell.

“What?” Bea asked suspiciously, dragging her feet, hoping Franky wasn’t going to pull one of her humiliating stunts.

“Relax Red!” Franky said, brandishing a paperback. “You said you needed something to read. So I’ve selected this from my own private collection,” she said, cocking one eyebrow. “Just for you.” Bea took the book from her hand and examined the cover dubiously.

“ _Love Between the Stacks,_ ” she read. The cover illustration featured a bespectacled woman sitting at a desk piled high with books. Another woman leaned against a bookcase in the background.

“It’s entry level,” Franky continued. “Just right for your uptight self Red. You need to read it carefully … make notes if necessary. Allie can thank me later,” she added with a leer. Bea finally caught up with what kind of book it was and felt herself flush a deep red.

“F’ fuck’s sake, Franky,” she muttered, trying to thrust the book back into Franky’s hand. “I’m not gay.”

“Uh huh,” Franky responded, clearly not convinced. “Doesn’t matter. Read it anyway. I’ve been subjected to plenty of straight fiction and some of it was pretty good.” Bea allowed the book to be pressed back into her hand. Well, she _was_ short of things to read.

⁂

_Dear Bea,_

_I've been thinking about you and wondering how you are. How are you healing up? I hope the prison is looking after you properly and that you are being sensible and resting when you can. I know how stubborn you can be! Sit down, get plenty of sleep, and don't force me to write to Franky or Liz and make them put you on bed rest. You know I will!_

_Don’t worry, I know what you want to know. Debbie is fine and being surprisingly patient with her house arrest. The swing band at school is going to be putting on a mini concert in a few weeks. She has the music and, because it's pretty advanced stuff, she's been practicing like crazy. So it's been wall to wall "Ain't Misbehavin'", "Let's Face the Music and Dance" and "The Charleston". All great tunes … until you're listening to them for the fiftieth time! I've been making the best of it and singing along and dancing as much as possible. I wish you could have seen me doing the Charleston while I was waiting for the spaghetti to cook. I totally aced it! But that dance is quite a workout. Phew ..._

⁂

"I heard that you've been in medical for a few days Bea. What happened?" Dr Westfall asked as soon as they were seated. Bea was surprised by the doctor's tone. She seemed concerned beyond what she would expect from their professional relationship, and Bea was moved that she cared. Her eyes stung briefly.

“You know I can’t tell you,” she replied sullenly, to disguise how touched she was.

“If you want to tell me ... I’ll keep it confidential, of course …” Dr Westfall probed. Bea shrugged.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s all sorted now.” The psychologist observed her for a long moment.

“It was a severe attack, Bea. It’s okay to feel vulnerable after something like that. Perhaps you could tell me how it made you feel at least?” Bea sighed. Vulnerable was about right. Without her usual anger she had felt like she had peeled back her own skin and exposed all her nerve endings to the cold air; or like she had decided to climb a tall ship’s mast without a harness and, only once the wind had got up, had realised how hazardous her situation was.

“I knew it was going to happen so ... I was prepared. Only, I felt exactly the same fear I always felt when I knew Harry was going to go to town on me. But I didn’t get angry. You taught me that,” she said with a glance and a smile. “And Allie always reminds me that I have to be smart and not get a record in here, to give me the best chance at my trial …” At the thought of Allie, Bea’s lips had done that thing that they always did and curved into a slight smile. Dr Westfall looked at her and then down at her notebook.

“Er … Allie. That’s your daughter’s foster carer?” Bea nodded, her heart driving hard. “Is she visiting you?”

“Yeah,” Bea croaked. She cleared her throat. “When I was first in here, I wanted to meet the person who was looking after my daughter. To be sure that Debbie was gunna be okay. I guess we … hit it off because she’s visited me every week since.” Dr Westfall nodded.

“She must be a very special person … to do so much for you and Debbie …” she suggested with a smile. Bea nodded.

“Yeah. Debbie really lucked out …” The psychologist just nodded thoughtfully and made a note.

“And your injuries? No permanent damage I hope?”

“The doctor says not …”

“You should consider allowing your lawyer to take some photographs of those bruises,” she said. “Sometimes harsh prison conditions can have a favourable influence on a jury.”

“Good idea,” Bea said with a nod.

“And you’re certain that this won’t happen again?” the doctor asked. “Because I can have a word with Miss Davidson and get you moved into protective custody …” Bea shook her head.

“Not necessary, really … 

⁂

_… I will film it for you for when you get out. I know it’s not the same and I wish you could come and watch her. You’d be so proud. Hell, I’m proud! My dad wants me to get him a ticket when they’re available. Would you be okay with that? They get along so well. He takes an interest in everything she excels at. If I wasn’t such a grownup I might feel a little jealous as I don’t remember him taking much of an interest in me when I was that age …_

Lying on her bunk, Bea looked up from the letter and pondered that. Allie seemed to have such a good relationship with her dad now but from a few things she’d said she gathered that that hadn’t always been the case. Her eye caught on the photos of Debbie that she had pinned to her wall. Debbie had had a terrible experience of having a father and for the rest of her life she would have no experience of it at all. Bea had taken away any opportunity for a healed relationship such as Allie and her dad now had. And she’d taken away a grandfather from any children that Debbie might have in the future. In the midst of her abuse she’d been sure that Harry would never improve, would always be a bastard and, in fact, might never stop until either she or Debbie were dead. But now … if she’d left him, if he’d got help for his violence and his drinking … could he ever have become a positive force in Debbie’s life? She doubted it, but she’d never know. And that was the very good reason why she was in prison now. Why she deserved to be here.

She turned onto her side and faced the wall. Why? Why did it have to be this way? Aged just twenty her own parents had died and had left her alone with Harry and a toddler. And she’d had such a good, positive relationship with her parents. When she had fallen pregnant with Debbie they had supported her decision to marry Harry although she could tell that neither of them rated him as good son-in-law material. If they hadn’t died that day she knew that they would have seen what was going on and would probably have convinced Bea to leave Harry years ago. She imagined what that would be like: for her parents to be alive, for Bea and Debbie to be living free of Harry for many years, independent, well adjusted … free. The four of them would go out on the boat and her mum would teach Debbie how to manage the sails; her dad would be the one proudly squeezing Debbie’s shoulder, not Allie’s dad, a man Bea had never even met. Sorrow struck sharply at her heart for all the things that they had both missed out on. And then the tears came. Loud sobs that she muffled as best she could with her pillow.

When the worst of her grief had passed she was left feeling empty and obscurely ashamed. She roughly wiped her face dry of tears. She had cried and she supposed that was something. Dr Westfall had told her that it was unhealthy not to cry. But she couldn’t feel proud of herself. These tears had leaked through somehow, maybe from some gland or duct that had been loosened by that blow to the head … loosened by something, at any rate. Maybe by her fledgling understanding of herself and her impulses or by the sympathetic help she was getting from her friends. But they were born of her own self-pity at what she had been denied. They didn’t help. They couldn’t solve anything. Debbie was as fatherless as ever, and so was she.

⁂

Maybe that cry had done her some good after all. Bea had been reading through Allie’s old letters that she kept safely in a pocket she had made at the back of her sketch pad. Allie’s words about her dad still saddened her, but the sadness had faded now so that it produced only a melancholy smile rather than a storm of grief. She released her breath in a shuddering sigh. Now that she was thinking more clearly, she realised that Harry could never have amounted to anything. He was nothing like Allie’s dad and was incapable of change. Debbie was no more fatherless now, now that Bea had put an end to him, than she had been at any other point in her life. He had never done any of the things that dads usually did with their kids. She could not even be sure that he had ever loved her, or even if he had been capable of love.

She put the letters away carefully inside their pocket, inside the sketch pad, between two of the taller books on her shelf. Her eye snagged on the colourful spine of the romance novel that Franky had lent her: _“Love Between the Stacks.”_ She pulled it out and lay down on her bed to read.

⁂

“ _There_ you are, love. We wondered where you’d got to …” Liz said with a smile as Bea came out of her room into the common area. Bea blinked blearily. “Did you drop off?” Liz asked, putting her knitting to one side. Bea shook her head, dizzily adjusting to being back in the real world after a good two hours in the fictional world of Franky’s book. Although _drop_ felt like an apt word. She felt as though she had been falling for a long time and had only now hit the ground and was struggling to find her feet.

“Dor reckoned you were _meditating_ or summat …” Boomer began.

“No I didn’t!” Doreen protested.

“ … but I just reckoned you needed some _alone time_ ,” the big woman continued relentlessly, making a crude gesture. Bea blushed hotly and looked away.

“Boomer!” Liz interjected.

“I was just reading,” Bea retorted, feeling somewhat compromised by Boomer’s insinuation and still vaguely off-balance from this rude return to the real world. And then Franky swivelled in her chair and made it worse.

“It must be a good book to keep you occupied for so long Red,” she said with a knowing grin. “What is it? Political memoir? Celebrity exposé? Or good old fashioned _bonk-buster_?” Kim laughed. Bea blushed hotter still. Franky knew exactly what that book contained. In fact, Bea had been unsurprised to find that it fell open at certain pages. But did she have to show her up in front of everyone?

“ _Struth_ ,” she muttered under her breath. She cleared her throat and headed over to the sink.

“Anyone want a cuppa?” she asked with her back to the group.

“Yeah, I’ll have one. Cheers, Bea,” Boomer replied, apparently unaware of Franky’s jibes. Thank God for Boomer.

⁂

Bea read on into the night, unable to stop until she had reached the final page and the happy resolution of the story. She lay the book down and tried to compose herself for sleep. But her mind replayed the interactions between the central characters and the author’s description of their feelings and responses. She would like to deny that she had placed Allie into one of the roles and herself into the other, but here alone in the dark, the only person she could even try to fool was herself. That plummeting feeling she got when Allie took her hand or held her … the writer clearly knew that feeling and ascribed it to love, to falling _in_ love. All those descriptions of looks and touches, of covert glances … _shit_. Bea had been living through a boilerplate romance and had never even noticed. Had Allie noticed? If she was half as savvy as Bea knew her to be, then she must have. Were her teasing words and looks in earnest? Or did she just enjoy getting Bea in a spin? Was she laughing at Bea’s cluelessness? Bea groaned at the thought.

When Franky had given her the book, Bea had told her that she wasn’t gay. And as far as she was aware, that was the truth. But her response to the sexual scenes in the book was undeniable. Her pulse had sped up as she read those passages. She had become hot and the liquid feeling that she had felt during her visit with Allie had returned. According to the book, that was arousal. Could she have been gay all along? Was that the reason her marriage had been such a disaster? Or had prison somehow ‘turned’ her gay? She snorted at the idea. Could Allie have turned her gay? She didn’t think it worked that way. She needed some advice. _Not Franky!_ her unconscious thundered at her. No, not Franky.

⁂

“Can I ask you something?” Bea asked. Her heart was racing but now that she had finally got up the courage to ask she wasn’t about to back down.

“Of course. This is a safe space and you can ask anything,” Dr Westfall replied smoothly.

“It may seem like a stupid question …”

“There’s no such thing as a stupid question, Bea,” she replied with a reassuring smile. Bea took a deep breath and contemplated her shoes.

“How does a person know if they’re ... gay?” The psychologist took a deep breath.

“We’ve not discussed your perspectives on love and relationships … “ she began. _Love. A relationship._ These were words from a long forgotten language and Bea’s brain struggled to make sense of how they might apply to her. Did she dare to imagine someone to smile at over the breakfast table? Someone to hold and be held by during difficult moments? Someone with whom to share a life? Could she cast Allie in that role? “Bea …” Her scattered thoughts returned and she focussed back on Dr Westfall. “Where’d you go?” Bea gave a tiny shake of her head. This was ridiculous. Even if Allie was, by some miracle, interested in her, it wouldn’t be fair on her. Bea had nothing to offer. She could be in here for years. Allie was young and beautiful and deserved a life that matched. That thought descended upon her heavily and her mood instantly blackened.

“I’m done here,” Bea told Dr Westfall gruffly and began to get to her feet. But Dr Westfall wasn’t finished with her yet.

“You know, I’ve known a lot of women who identified as straight and who fell in love with a woman and panicked. And to those women, I always said, ‘Forget the terminology. Just be in the moment and see how you feel.’ Because if you’ve fallen for someone, then … fuck the labels.” Bea watched the psychologist’s face become deadly serious as she said those three little words: _fuck the labels_. Perhaps it was because Dr Westfall seemed the unlikeliest of people to use such language that it chimed so strongly with Bea’s sense of what was right. She’d never asked Franky what label she applied to herself, she’d just accepted her as she was. Why couldn’t she be that generous with herself? Bea smiled and nodded to herself. What did it matter if she said she was gay? Or if she said she was straight, or that she didn’t know? What she did know was that she felt connected to Allie in a way she had never felt connected to anyone. Had she fallen for her, as Dr Westfall seemed to suggest? She didn’t know, but perhaps she owed it to herself to see where her feelings took her.

“Thanks Doc,” Bea said earnestly. Dr Westfall was beaming at her like she was a baby who had just taken her first steps.

“You’re welcome.”

⁂

Sitting on the edge of that examination table, swinging her feet and waiting for Mr Jackson to return, she laughed at herself. _God_ , she was such a cliché. A plain, middle-aged woman like herself falling for a blonde bombshell like Allie. It was too obvious! A shapely, young, blue-eyed blonde … she should get some kind of award for _‘Most Out of Her League Crush'._ Still, when she had walked out of Dr Westfall’s office she had promised herself that she would follow her advice, not panic, and see how she felt. That was why it was imperative that she saw Allie today. Other than the fact that Allie would worry if she was turned away at the door, Bea knew that if the visit was put off until next week there was a high probability she would lose her nerve and be less open with Allie than she wanted to be right now. Heart rate climbing, she swung her legs some more, adjusted her ridiculous hospital gown around her bare thighs and listened out for the rattle of keys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally called my fictional romance novel "Love in the Stacks" only to discover that that was an actual book! And so "Love *Between* the Stacks" was born - I have in my mind a lonely late-thirties librarian who meets a younger woman and has to confront her attraction to her - you get the idea. 😉


	18. "Water's Edge"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a dance is done and a barricade is breached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, as ever, for the comments on the previous chapter. I love reading your thoughts. Here is the next chapter - I hope you like it!

Bea could hear someone coming. Her nerves twitched, encouraging her to slip off the table and run to the glass panel in the door to see if it was Mr Jackson. But the nurse had told her she was to remain seated, or even better, lying down, so she contented herself with leaning forwards and peering intently, her neck straining. Even though she knew to expect him, she still jumped in surprise when Mr Jackson’s face momentarily appeared framed in the window. He disappeared and there Allie was, behind where he had been standing, looking pale and worried. Bea’s heart expanded. That expression, “my heart went out to her”, that was exactly how it felt, Bea thought; as though her heart would have crossed the distance between them if only it could. The key rattled in the lock and the door swung open.

“Here she is,” Bea heard Mr Jackson tell Allie with a furtive look down the corridor. He held the door open so she could pass him and enter the room. “Remember,” he said, looking from one to the other of them, “I can only give you ten minutes. The nurse is on a break. I’ll make sure she doesn't come this way.” They both nodded. “Sorry,” he addressed Allie apologetically. “But I have to lock the door.” Allie smiled at him.

“Not a problem. And … thank you.” Mr Jackson nodded in response, his dark eyes gleaming, and swung the door closed behind her. They both listened to the door being locked and the sound of his footsteps retreating along the corridor. Bea turned her eyes to Allie and swallowed dryly, hoping all signs of her earlier meltdown had now faded from her face. 

“I hope you didn't mind the cloak and dagger stuff," she said hoarsely. "But I had to … I didn’t want you to be turned away at reception and worry about what might have happened …” Allie smiled, so beautifully, that Bea's heart bobbed up, suddenly weightless, like a buoy escaping its tether.

“Why would I mind?” Allie asked archly. “The chance for a private audience, in a locked room … I didn’t see that coming …” she said, drawing a little closer. Bea found herself blushing and smiling helplessly, hard enough to make her face ache. It seemed that, on top of everything else, she had now relinquished control of her facial muscles to Allie. She looked at her feet, contemplating how her responses fitted in with everything she'd been thinking about recently. “But Mr Jackson said you fainted …” Allie continued, concerned. She came closer still and waited until Bea lifted her chin so that she could examine her face. “How do you feel now?” she asked, all trace of playfulness gone. 

"I feel fine. It was just a momentary thing." She hesitated. "I'm very glad to see you," she admitted shyly, trying to be true to the promise she had made to herself. Allie's eyes widened and she smiled. Some of her pallor was driven away by a pleased blush that formed high up on her cheeks. "How are you?" Bea asked, and looked her up and down. She was wearing jeans and a simple black V-necked t-shirt that clung very nicely to her curves, something that Bea could not remember noticing before but now her eyes drank in thirstily. Her face was as perfect as it was possible for a face to be, just as Bea remembered it. High, full cheeks, curving pink lips, beauty spot, all in place, though Bea thought she could detect a tension at the corners of her eyes that wasn't usually there and faint shadows of fatigue beneath. She was tired, Bea realised, wondering what she had been worrying about.

"I'm fine now," Allie replied. Bea waited, feeling there was more. "Mr Jackson told me I was being brought in to be searched, so that was freaking me out a bit ‘cause I didn’t fancy stripping today." Bea’s pulse throbbed in her throat as she fleetingly considered the fact that there were days when Allie _did_ feel like stripping. "And then he told me you were in medical and I thought it had happened again … that Jacs … "

"No, no, no." Bea reassured her. "Jacs has been as meek as a lamb since she got back from the hospital. And I'm sorry about the search thing. Mr Jackson needed some way to separate you from the other visitors and bring you back here."

⁂

Mr Jackson had closed the door to Search Room 1 behind them and Allie had eyed him dubiously. What was he up to? Was he one of _those_ men? Was she going to have to kick him in the balls? 

"It's okay. Bea sent me," he said with a nervous smile. Allie looked at him blankly, trying to catch up with this strange change of direction. "She's in medical …" Allie's heart clutched as though it might actually have stopped for a beat or two. _Jacs_.

"Is she badly hurt?" she asked with rising panic. 

"It's nothing like that. She just had a funny turn this morning …"

"Define _funny turn,"_ Allie replied in a frayed tone, not feeling in the mood for such a light-hearted description. 

"She fainted at morning count. The doctor’s told her she's confined to medical for the rest of the day … She didn’t like _that_ , I can tell you … " he trailed off with an expressive widening of his eyes.

"So I can't see her?" And even though she was sure that the reason that this private chat had been arranged was to impart this unwelcome news, she couldn't prevent the way her voice climbed with hope. 

"I'm going to take you to her.” Allie’s heart pulsed wildly at this news. “Just for a few minutes. Here, wear this." He gave her a visitor's pass to clip to her shirt and her hands trembled excitedly as she attempted to fix it in place. "This is not exactly allowed, so if we see any members of staff just … try to look like you're on official business." Allie looked down at her casual outfit and knew that, if they were spotted, she'd never pass as some kind of Department of Corrections bureaucrat. Internally she adopted the persona of an evangelical Christian visitor, come to reveal the gospels to the poor souls whose sinful actions had resulted in their incarceration. She schooled her face into the pious expression she remembered well from her days on the streets and followed Mr Jackson out of the door. 

Fortunately it wasn't much of a walk to medical and they saw no one, though Allie couldn't help but glance uneasily at the security cameras and wonder if anyone was watching. Mr Jackson led her through two gates, each of which had to be unlocked and then locked behind them. The clang of the metal gates and the rattle of the keys made her skin tighten into goosebumps. It was like this for Bea every day, she thought, with a sense of dismay. How did she endure it? She must phone Ms Pym again and urge her to get a trial date set. Bea shouldn't be in this place for a moment longer than she had to be. 

And then there she was. Mr Jackson opened the door and there was Bea, seated on the edge of an examination table, wearing only one of those humiliating medical garments that left even the most confident of people clutching at the inadequate fabric in desperation. To her credit, Bea didn't seem concerned by it, her eyes fixed on Allie's face. It wasn't that Allie hadn't noticed the expanse of bare legs. She had noticed, but she resolutely looked at Bea's face instead, not wanting to make her uncomfortable with her blatant staring. 

Bea looked good. Better than she had any right to after having had her face pulverised so recently. The bruises had changed colour, sculpting her face in interesting new ways; the gash on her forehead was puckering along the edges, denoting healing; and the bloodshot eye was almost as clear now as its partner. Allie eyed the unmistakable tear tracks left on her face. She had been crying, and Allie's heart was assailed by a fresh wave of empathy. What could have happened to make the usually stoic Bea submit to tears?

So Allie did what she did best. She made a vaguely flirtatious comment and watched Bea smile and blush and avert her eyes, her sadness and worry banished, at least for a moment.

"But Mr Jackson said you fainted. How do you feel now?" she asked. She didn't bother to conceal her concern. Something had changed between them, either so gradually over the weeks that Allie hadn't noticed it, or since Bea had taken that beating. Caution be damned. If it made Bea feel better to know that she cared about her then … she would open up her heart as if it were a model for a drawing in a medical textbook. Bea made some reassuring comment that Allie couldn’t fully believe, but it was her next words, spoken with emphasis, that drove everything else out of her mind.

“I’m very glad to see you.”

This was more than Bea usually admitted. In person, at least; in her letters she could sometimes surprise Allie with her openness. But those few words were spoken with a sincerity that pierced her heart. And the effort it took Bea to overcome her shyness and say the words was apparent, which only made their value greater and magnified their effect on Allie, her heart speeding up and her joints loosening dangerously. She needed something to prop herself up against. She fought the desire to just step in closer to where Bea's compact frame was poised on the brink of the table, her feet paddling the air. She could see herself laying her hands on Bea’s thighs, nudging her body between her knees to rest against the table edge, their faces brought close together. To compound Allie’s problem, Bea’s eyes, for a second, were all over her. She was pretty much checking her out, Allie thought, watching her eyes roam over her chest and down to her hips before returning to scrutinise her face.

“How are you?” Bea asked quietly, her softening eyes revealing the tender feeling behind the question. Allie’s heart thrashed away behind her rib cage.

“I’m fine now,” she replied. For a moment she was tempted to leave it at that but at the last moment she decided that Bea’s openness required the same in return, so she explained about her worry that she would be searched and her fear that Jacs had somehow got to Bea again.

“I hope Mr Jackson won’t get into trouble for arranging this …” Allie commented, thinking that a reprimand would be a poor reward for his generosity.

“Don’t worry about him. I think the nurse has the hots for him … and that he secretly quite likes the attention, so chatting to her for a few minutes won’t be a hardship.” Bea’s eyes gleamed briefly. “Besides, I didn’t exactly give him much choice.”

“What do you mean?”

“Stupidly, I got upset when the doctor confined me to medical for the day. He thought I was getting too worked up and wanted to give me a sedative. I basically pleaded with Mr J. not to let him do it … Mr Jackson was the officer on duty the day I was admitted … I had to be sedated then and I think he remembered how horribly I reacted …" She reached up and passed a hand over her eyes as though to wipe away an unpleasant memory. "Anyway, Mr J. sent the doctor away for a bit and I calmed down enough to explain that I really wanted to see you …” Bea’s eyes met hers at this moment and the naked fear Allie saw there made her reach out and touch Bea’s face before she even knew what she was doing. Her hesitant fingers traced the gash on her forehead and ghosted over her greening bruises, finally settling under her jaw. Her thumbs brushed over the last traces of her tears and Bea let her head drop slightly so that Allie took some of the weight of it in her hands. It was a gesture of need and trust and it gave Allie the confidence to say what was on her mind.

“I thought you’d been crying,” she said quietly, inching closer until her thighs were brushing against Bea’s knees. She smoothed her thumbs over her cheeks rhythmically, erasing the tear tracks and soothing the ghost of a tremble that ran through Bea’s body. “Why?” she asked in a near whisper. “Why were you so upset?” But Bea didn’t reply except with a dry swallow and she wouldn’t look at Allie. So Allie carried on speaking. “Y’know, this is a bit like a dream I had …” She felt Bea twitch slightly under her hands. “In fact it was almost exactly like this. You were hurt and I was seeing to your injuries, standing almost exactly like this, cleaning your cut …” She brushed her fingers over Bea’s forehead again. Bea leaned in closer, strands of her hair tickling against Allie’s cheek. “I was your nurse …” Bea made a sound of amusement. “ _It’s true._ I had the outfit and everything …” Bea looked up at her then, one brow arched. “Nothing like _you’re_ imagining,” Allie admonished playfully. “Just plain scrubs … but still …” Bea looked down again, but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips.

“But still, _what_?” she asked in a faint, hopeful voice. Allie’s heart thundered. Could it be true, what she heard in Bea’s voice? What she was seeing in her body language? She waded in.

“But still … it was _hot_.” She didn’t bother to put her usual teasing tone into the words this time. She let them stand. There was a long silence during which Bea allowed her head to remain within Allie’s hands and Allie continued to stroke her face with her thumbs. Just as Allie was beginning to fear that she had said too much, she felt Bea’s arms against her waist. They pulled her in and Allie released Bea’s face, dropping her arms either side of Bea’s neck and down her back. Bea parted her legs so that, as she was tugged closer, Allie’s thighs rested against the table’s edge. Finally, Bea placed her face against Allie’s collarbone, squeezing their bodies close together and releasing a breath against her skin, a breath that sounded as though it had been pending for years. Allie gathered her to her in turn, resting her face on the top of Bea’s head and stroking her hands down her back. Her breath felt tremulous in her throat and she knew that her heart must be raucous against Bea’s ear. For once she didn’t know what to say. _Thank you,_ or _I love you_ or _Are you okay?_ None of it seemed right, being expressive of either too much or too little. 

“This is nice,” she said inanely. _Way to go Allie._

⁂

Bea nodded against the warm triangle of skin that lay against her cheek. It _was_ nice. It was beyond nice; so far beyond nice that she wasn’t sure there was a superlative that would reach it. Good, better, best … What was beyond that? Nothing, as far as she knew. Best was the best it could get. There should be something more, she thought hazily.

“You comfortable there?” Allie asked a moment later.

“Uh huh.” _You have no idea._ Bea snuggled in, felt her eyelashes brush against Allie’s skin, sensed her shiver slightly. She smiled, knowing Allie would feel it. Allie chuckled and brought one hand up to cup the back of Bea’s head, her fingers burrowing into her hair. A sound escaped from Bea’s throat, half sigh, half … what would you call that? It was not a sound that Bea had ever made before and she blushed to hear the want it expressed. She felt Allie’s chest heave under her face.

“What’s brought this on?” Allie asked a little breathlessly. “Not that I’m complaining …” Bea thought for a moment.

“I read a book,” she said flatly. Allie chuckled again.

“Must’ve been a good one …”

“And Dr Westfall gave me some good advice. And your letter … made me cry.” She sensed Allie recoil slightly, so she tightened her hold and lifted her head to look into her face. “In a good way. About Deb and my mum and dad … It kind of loosened something in me. Or, something had already loosened and your letter allowed me to feel it.” Allie’s eyes were searching her face tenderly.

“You’ve had quite a week,” she said in a soft voice. Bea nodded.

“It’s why I had to see you today …” But now that Bea had her here she felt strangely hesitant to speak. She was on the beach but was no longer sure she was brave enough to take the plunge and swim. She couldn't bear to cry any more today. She’d much rather just lay her head on Allie’s chest and not say anything, not make any mistakes. So she did. She tucked her head back under Allie’s chin and breathed her in. She felt Allie relax against her and her hands smooth their way over her back and shoulders, up and down her arms.

⁂

Allie’s whole body felt unexpectedly full. Full of heat and liquid that she was somehow pulling in from her contact with Bea, as though she were a baobab sucking in rain through its bark. She could feel herself swelling with it, storing it against drought. Her pulse jounced almost painfully throughout her distended skin in a way she couldn’t remember ever feeling before, even during the best of the days she had shared with Ingrid, few though they had been and short lived. She deliberately turned her thoughts away from that spectacularly doomed love affair. _Bea_. She was here with Bea and she had to make the most of every second they were alone because who knew how long it would be until they had another moment like this.

She tightened her arms around her shoulders at the thought. Bea sighed against her chest where she had laid her head and Allie could feel the heat and dampness of her breath against her bare skin. She managed to suppress the groan that was building in her chest but her hands were sliding away of their own accord, down Beas’ back, around her waist and onto her hips. Bea raised her head at this and looked at Allie blearily as though she had just woken from sleep. Allie leaned her upper body away a little so as to see her better and rested her palms on Bea’s thighs, laying them lightly on the last centimetres of fabric before the bare skin of her legs began. _Look at that restraint_ , she silently congratulated herself.

It seemed like Bea had talked herself out today. She was all silence and meaningful looks now, so it was up to Allie to interpret as best she could and move things along.

“So … returning to my _hot_ dream …” Allie paused to see if this was making Bea uncomfortable. Bea blinked slowly but didn’t look away, so Allie continued. “You’ll never guess what happened next …” Allie saw Bea’s lips purse and relax minutely, part slightly as though to respond and then subside again. Allie watched as a blush spread up her chest and neck and into her face. But still she didn’t turn away. All the things that Bea had had going on in her head this week had clearly had an effect on her willingness to engage more intimately. Allie reached out and cupped Bea’s burning face, encouraged by the way she pressed her cheek into her palm. “You kissed me,” Allie said in a whisper. Bea lowered her eyes at that, but didn’t move away. Allie felt her swallow.

“And how was it?” Bea asked, her voice all peaks and troughs. Then she lifted her eyes and they were full of light and hope.

“Um …” Allie scrunched up her face. “It was pretty good. For a dream kiss,” she replied in an offhand way that she mitigated with a smile. Bea huffed out a tiny laugh. “But I know it’d be better in real life …” She left the challenge hanging there between them. And Bea’s eyes were all over her face, wondering, seeking permission, looking between her eyes, where Allie hoped she’d find only kindness and love, and her mouth, which Allie thought was probably hanging half open in anticipation.

Allie noticed the moment that Bea made her decision. A focus came into her eyes and her back straightened as she sat up alertly. Her right hand came up to rest against Allie’s cheek with only the briefest vacillation along the way. When she leaned in, Allie stopped breathing, her lids dropped down and she waited. Such a light, soft touch of lips, but still Allie’s body shuddered with the impact. And again, a little more this time, so that Allie had the opportunity to respond, to taste the faint salinity of Bea's earlier tears. A runnel of desire ran through her so that she couldn’t help but grasp Bea a little firmer. Bea drew back at that, with a gasp on her lips and a frisk of the head that reminded Allie of a shying horse.

“Sorry …” Allie began, only to have Bea lean forward impatiently and lay her mouth heavily over Allie’s, her arms around her back, pulling their upper bodies flush together. Breath, lips, tongue … Allie was lost, ocean deep, tossed in a dark wave of arousal, so that when Bea separated from her she felt beached, abandoned. She breathed heavily into Bea’s disbelieving face for a few moments. “That was …” she began.

“ … beyond ...” Bea finished shakily, already leaning in again, her eyes falling closed, lips parting, promising more.

⁂

When Mr Jackson returned, Allie was demonstrating her Charleston, rotating on the spot, hands and feet flying out to the sides with a kind of crazy panache. Bea was near hysterical with hilarity and, despite her promise to herself that there would be no more crying today, tears of laughter had started down her face.

"Sorry to break up the party ladies," Mr Jackson said with an amused look. "Time to go." Bea sobered up and wiped her face with the heels of her hands. She sighed and cast her gaze despairingly into her lap. Allie was leaving and this brief interlude was coming to an end. With the electricity of their kisses still fizzing through her blood it seemed too hateful that they should be parted. 

"Hey," Allie said softly. She had come over to Bea and laid her hands back on her thighs. Bea knew she was waiting for her to look up and, childishly, she wanted to refuse to raise her head. Maybe then she would stay. After a short struggle with her inner child she raised her eyes to Allie's. "I'm gunna write you a letter as soon as I get home," Allie told her gravely. "I've got so much I need to say to you." She looked into her eyes. "Get the prison doctor to refer you to a specialist," she insisted. Bea just nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Right now all she wanted was to taste the unbelievable sweetness of Allie’s lips on hers again, to carry that electric feeling forward as far as she could, but, glancing over at Mr Jackson, she knew she couldn't. She looked up into Allie's eyes, sparkling with amusement, clearly reading her thoughts. 

"Smith," Mr Jackson growled impatiently, making her flinch. But then Allie pressed her lips against Bea's so that she forgot he was even there. It wasn't a pash but it was far from chaste and Bea's blood bounded enthusiastically in her ears. Allie's fingers danced lightly over the skin of her thighs as she broke the kiss and Bea couldn't help but laugh. Then Allie was backing reluctantly towards the door.

"Quit worrying and get some sleep," Bea called after her.

Allie smiled wryly, inclined her head in acquiescence, disappeared into the corridor and was gone. Bea sat and listened to her blood surging around her body, with her smile fading on her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope that was what you were looking for, because it feels like it's been a long time coming! Please let me know your thoughts. The next few chapters might be tricky but I will try to get them out on time in my usual Thursday afternoon slot (GMT). Hopefully UK readers have noticed that the new series of Wentworth will begin broadcasting here on Saturday August 1st on 5Star at 10pm. Hitch ❤  
> *POSTSCRIPT* Now it's saying Season 8 will start Wednesday 5th August at 10pm. Not sure at this point which is correct.


	19. "Pen Pal"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroines write some letters. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Thanks for your continued attention to this story. Here's the next chapter.

_Monday 10th March 2014_

_Dear Bea,_

_This isn't going to be like the other letters I've written to you. It isn't going to be about Debbie, or school, or lawyers, or prison. This is going to be a love letter. Which is the only kind of letter I have wanted to write to you since I first put pen to paper and began with "Dear Bea …"_

_So brace yourself …_

_Dear Bea,_

_You've ruined me._

_Love, Allie._

_No, no, no. Sorry. I think I need to explain that._

_Dear Bea,_

_Now that I have felt your fierce, salty kisses how can I carry on without them? You've ruined me. Ruined me for life without them. Not_ _ruined_ _me, obviously, because you have made everything in my life a million times brighter and better. But now I am going to be yearning for you every moment of every day until you are released from that horrible place._

_This is going to sound hideously presumptuous, but I'm living for the day when you walk out of Wentworth with your head held high. In my imagination you'll slo-mo straight into my arms, then I'll put you in my car and bring you home, never to be parted from you. But I have no idea if that's what you want. Am I coming on too strong? I am aren't I. Shit. I'll try again._

_Dear Bea,_

_You kissed me. I kissed you. No biggie …_

_Actually, that reminds me. When I said that your dream kiss (I suppose I should say_ _my_ _dream kiss because I dreamed it, but then again, in the dream_ _you_ _kissed me … Hmm … Let's call it_ _our_ _dream kiss.) When I said that our dream kiss was only pretty good I was lying. Our dream kiss was excellent, surpassed only by the thrill of the real thing. But I downplayed it so that you wouldn't feel too much performance anxiety. It must have worked because I've never been kissed like that before._

 _I think you have no idea what you do to me. Your voice has some particular frequency that must be keyed specifically to my cells. I know this because I’ve felt them tremble when you speak. Scientists are still trying to work out how pheromones might be operating in human sexual attraction - maybe instead they should be studying the timbre of people’s voices. They ought to start with you and work out if the sounds produced by your vocal chords could be harvested and used as an aphrodisiac. And I only have to look at the bone structure of your face to be lost for words (stop laughing, I_ _am_ _sometimes lost for words). Cheekbones and a jawline like yours, so sharp they could cut, should come with a health warning. And then there’s the way nature sculpted your lips; so sexy they’re almost forbidding, and then you smile and that’s sexier still because it’s rare and shy … Too strong again? Damn_

_Dear Bea,_

_I want to be with you all the time._

_Love Allie._

_Dear Bea,_

_This separation is killing me and it’s only been a few hours. I think you will get this letter on Wednesday. I’ll be dreaming about you Wednesday night (and every night). Is it a date? See you there._

_All my love, Allie._

⁂

**Weds 12/03/14**

**Dear Allie,**

**I’ve never had a love letter before, never mind six all rolled into one. It (or they) did all kinds of things to me that I’m not sure I should mention in case you get big-headed. I don’t want you ending up like Franky! Anyway, I smiled a lot and teared up a bit and all day people have been giving me weird looks, so I think I must still be grinning. I won't go into how deluded you must be to write the things that you did, or how crazy you must be to even think about getting involved with someone like me. For now I'll just say thank you.**

**Not only have I never received a love letter, I’ve never written one either. And this is not a love letter because I wouldn’t know where to start in trying to describe my feelings. I suppose you’ve already worked out that that’s not my strong point. But last week I think I finally accepted that I have feelings.**

**Have feelings for you, that is. Of course I have** **feelings** **. Franky leant me a book: “Love Between the Stacks”. Have you read it? I don’t suppose you have. I know you’re very well read but even you can't have read everything. Anyway, the main character is called Patrice and she works in a library in a medium-sized town but is very lonely. And then she meets a young woman who has just moved to the town and comes into the library to borrow some books, obviously, and, well, did I mention it’s a romance? It’s a romance. And they have all this eye contact and chat. It was beginning to look a little bit familiar and then the penny dropped. I know you’re laughing! It’s because I’m so stupid and slow. Sorry Allie, you must have wondered if I’d ever twig.**

**So then I asked Dr Westfall how someone would know they were gay. Stupid question. But I have never been attracted to a woman before I met you. I did mention that I'm attracted to you, didn’t I? It’s kind of obvious after what happened on Monday. And it’s also obvious how attractive you are. That’s just a fact. You should tell me the story of how it’s possible that you’re single sometime. But you’ll never guess what Dr Westfall said. “Fuck the labels.” I know, I was shocked too because she seems so classy and professional. But that made sense to me. It doesn’t matter what I call myself, or what you call yourself. We’re just two people.**

**But then comes the really tricky part because I’m in prison for murdering my husband. (Like either of us could forget that!) No one knows how long I’m going to be here.** **I don’t want you to wait for me Allie** **. So this is your “get out of jail free card” if you like. If you have realised that you want out, you’re out and I won’t blame you. If you’re sticking around, for now, you have to know that if the worst happens and I get a long sentence then I’ll be expecting you to get out there and find someone else. You’re young and beautiful; you’re kind and full of love; you deserve to be happy. I have strong feelings for you Allie, I can admit that now, but I doubt I’ll ever be any good for you. I know, and maybe you will realise, that you'd be better off with someone with a less difficult past.**

**And the other tricky thing I have to say, if you are sticking around, is that you can't tell anyone. Debbie can’t know - she wants me to be happy so badly - and if she knows about this and I get a long sentence and have to let you go she’ll be doubly devastated. And you can’t let on in the visitor’s centre like you did in front of Mr Jackson. You know better than anyone how someone's family can be used against them in here. It’s grim but true - attachment becomes weakness.**

**I know I said that this wasn’t going to be a love letter but what I have actually ended up writing is something horrible, an anti-love letter. I’m sorry and I wish I didn’t have to say all this. I wish I could just tell you that no one ever made me feel like you do and no one ever will. When we kissed I thought my heart might just quit right there. It was how I imagine it must feel when they use those electric paddle things on people in hospitals. A shock to the heart.**

**I’ve written such a muddle of things. I hope you can work out what I mean. I hope this letter doesn’t hurt you because that’s the last thing I want. I hope you will still come and visit me next week, whatever you think about what I’ve written.**

**Love Bea.**

⁂

_Wednesday 12th March 2014_

_Dear Bea,_

_I don’t know if you’ve even received my first letter yet, but I had to write to you again before I see you because there’s some stuff I have to explain. I could have added this on to the letter I wrote on Monday but I wanted that to be a pure thing, unmuddied by what I have to tell you here. I’m scared. I have to write this down because I can’t imagine having the courage to tell it to you face-to-face next week. I should have told you the first time I ever met you, or the second, but I was a coward and kept my mouth shut. I was, and am, afraid that when you read all this you won’t want me to have anything to do with you or Debbie. Please Bea. Please know that this all happened when I was not much older than Deb. I was young and desperate. I have already told Debbie everything that I am about to tell you here._

_As you know, my mum died when I was a kid, just twelve years old. Cancer. Life got really bad after that because dad wasn’t coping and as the oldest I had to step up and parent the boys. That was hard enough, but when I was seventeen I fell in love with a girl. When dad realised what was going on he sent me away to a kind of informal gay conversion camp. I suppose at the time he thought he was doing what was best for me. Anyway, to cut it short I ran away and, with nowhere to go, ended up trying to survive here in Melbourne, living on the streets, begging, shoplifting food, whatever._

_I suppose it was inevitable that I got drawn into the kind of lifestyle that is common for kids with no other options. I started turning tricks to buy food. After a while I was using my earnings to buy drugs to blot out the self-loathing I felt about how I was living my life. And then one day a woman showed up, different to the Christian do-gooders who sometimes tried to press leaflets into our hands. She explained that she had a free bed at the women’s shelter she ran, and that if I took it she would help me get back on my feet and off the drugs. Well, I was too far gone to even be cautious of her. I just followed her home!_

_Luckily for me Kaz was exactly what she said she was. She took me in and cared for me; got me off the gear; got me into NA and got me checked out health wise. I was_ _so_ _lucky. I owe her my life. And my happiness, because I’m only here to meet you and be there for Deb because Kaz was there to help me that day. So, although she can be an awkward bugger, she’s_ _my_ _awkward bugger and part of the family. I hope you’ll be able to meet her someday. She has a tendency to rub people up the wrong way but her heart’s in the right place. As for my dad, I don’t think he’ll ever stop feeling guilty about the whole thing. And he should. He did a shitty thing when he sent me away. And he did a shitty job of raising us for quite a few years after mum died. Far from the perfect dad you might have imagined. But he’s busy making reparations and I think he’s good for Debbie._

_Now when I come and visit you on Monday - if you’ll even see me - you’ll know all about the stupid, dangerous, self-destructive things I did back then. I was a runaway, a thief, a prostitute and a drug addict. Quite a list for someone not yet thirty! But I hope you’ve also taken note of everything I’ve done since to clean myself up and create a worthwhile life. You can tell me when you see me what you make of it all. Please don’t turn me away. If you have replied to my previous letter this one will probably cross it in the post but we can sort it all out when we meet._

_All my love, Allie._

⁂

**Fri 14/03/14**

**Dear Allie,**

**Just got to scribble this and hope it gets to you quickly. I wish you’d told me before but I don’t care. Like me, you did what you had to do to survive. Everything you have done with your life and for me and Debbie proves you are not that person anymore.**

**See you Monday,**

**Bea x**

⁂

_Tuesday 18th March 2014_

_Dear Bea,_

_Your note was waiting for me when I got home from our visit. If only it had come a few hours earlier it would have saved me a lot of worry! But I don’t care because you were so lovely about it when I saw you yesterday. Now I wish I had told you a whole lot sooner. I should have known you would understand._

_I don’t know which was uppermost when I saw you: the agony or the ecstasy. To have you there in front of me and not be able to kiss and touch you like I wanted to - it was hard. But still, you’re so beautiful and just talking to you and seeing you, a touch of your hand, an innocent embrace, will be enough until we can be together properly. All that stuff in your letter about you letting me go, about me not waiting for you, I’m afraid I can’t take it seriously. It’s as if you’re saying, “Well, Allie. If I get a long sentence you’re going to have to give up breathing. But that’s okay by you isn’t it, babe?” So let’s not hear any more about that. You say I should be with someone with a less difficult past - well, now you know that I could say the same to you. We make quite a pair!_

_I'm intrigued about the book you read. I wonder how it made you feel, if it gave you that lovely fluttery feeling I always get in my tummy before I see you. If you imagined yourself into the story. If you imagined me._

_And the good doctor! She has a wise head on her shoulders. I'm so glad that she was there to tell you something that helped you. "Fuck the labels." That's awesome._

_I know you're seeing your lawyer tomorrow. Let me know how it goes …_

_… the blue or the brown, whichever you decide. I can pick it up, no problem, I just need a couple of days to make sure I can get it in time for her birthday. Sorry, I’d better stop now. I have a deadline that’s starting to loom. See you soon my love,_

_Allie._

⁂

**Thu 20/03/14**

**Dear Allie,**

**I agree with everything you said about the torture of seeing each other but being in public. Should I fake a faint next week? See if I can persuade our friendly neighbourhood cupid to bring you to me again? That might be pushing my luck. And in what world have you got me calling you “babe”? How is it that you think you get to decide what endearments I might use in the future? “Babe” is not even in my top three.**

**I saw Josephine. She said she had arranged an interview at home with Debbie. That’s good. I think that will be less difficult (less difficult! if only) for her. Please look after my baby. Dredging it all up is going to hit her hard. Josephine has been working with a witness - one of our old neighbours - who apparently heard some of what went on and wrote it down in her diary. Why would anyone do that? Listen to a woman having the shit kicked out of her, write it down, but not call the police? According to her it was none of her business. That plus my medical records and Debbie’s statement will make up the core of my defence together with Dr Westfall’s assessment.**

**But Josephine now wants to bring in some stuff about the times Harry tried to choke me. Apparently it’s a thing, “non-fatal strangulation” and is very common in domestic abuse. Perpetrators use it as a means of control. It’s a way of saying to the victim, “Look how easily I could kill you!” Experts are starting to recognise it as a precursor to an escalation of violence and even homicide. Josephine wants it to be named as a specific offence separate to assault or GBH. So my case, if successful, could make for a change in the law and help other women like me. And it would help my case too because Harry would try that with me. Josephine will argue that I lived in fear for my life and that I was convinced that no one would believe me if I tried to get help. All true, sadly.**

**You’ll be happy to hear that Wentworth shipped me off to the hospital yesterday arvo to have my wobbly brain examined. The specialist has said that I have “post-concussion syndrome” which apparently affects women worse than men. I can expect to be forgetful and dizzy a while longer but there’s not much they can do except monitor it. I feel okay, to be fair. I think the worst of it is behind me already.**

**As for Debbie’s birthday I think she would prefer the brown marl one, based on how you described it to me. I can't believe I'm going to miss her seventeenth birthday - I always used to try to sneak her out to Jock’s on her birthday for one of their ice cream sandwiches. Do you know Jock's? It’s in Albert Park. Great place - I couldn't always manage it, because sometimes Harry would insist that I bake some elaborate cake that he'd picked out. If it was anything less than perfect he would criticise it and use that as a pretext to start something.**

**Thanks for sorting out her present. Take some photos would you? I know that you'll make sure she has a great day because you've always made things right for her ever since that first week she came to you. I wonder why you got into fostering, Allie, now I've heard more about your childhood. Looking after your brothers was so much responsibility at such a young age. I would have thought you'd have steered clear of kids after that.**

**It’s getting late, so I’d better get some sleep and see if I can find you in my dreams. Give Debbie a kiss from me, and take one for yourself. I leave it up to you to decide how steamy,**

**Love Bea.**

⁂

_Sunday 23rd March 2014_

_Dear Bea,_

_You won't be surprised to hear that I found you waiting for me in my dreams when I fell asleep last night. And the steamy kisses? Wow. I woke up practically in a puddle. (Are you blushing yet?) It's amazing what the brain can do to the body._

_I will see you before you get to read this but I think it will be easier for both of us if I write down how it went on Friday. Josephine didn't do the interview with Debbie. Instead she sent a paralegal. I was a bit put out at first, but then I realised that she'd sent a younger woman to put Debbie at ease and because it would seem less formal. It seemed to work. Debbie and Yindi really hit it off, chatting about all sorts of things before they got stuck into the serious stuff._

_Debbie was very brave. She really struggled at times but got it all out like the trouper she is and only broke down after Yindi had left. I think the one thing that will stay with me more than any of the others is when she described coming into the kitchen that night after Harry had hit you across the head with the bottle. She was only little then and she said she's not spoken about it with you since. Perhaps you even thought she hadn’t remembered it. But as it will almost certainly be one of the instances of violence that she is asked to testify about at the trial I have to make sure that you're prepared to hear what she will say._

_She said that she was scared because she couldn't recognise you as her mum. She said the blood was sheeting down from your head covering your face like a mask through which she could see only your eyes. That it was like a bad dream. She wanted to run away from you but she was rooted to the spot until you said her name. Even then she was afraid to go to you; there was so much blood. Eventually you wiped your face with a towel and she ran into your arms. She doesn’t remember what happened next, if Harry was there or even if you went to the hospital; it’s just a series of snapshots that have lodged in her brain._

_I’m sorry babe. I know this is hard to read (and frankly it was hard to listen to) and you will be upset by it. I wish I was there to hold you and let you cry. To comfort you if I could. But I figure you'd prefer to do your crying in private rather than in a courtroom or the visitor's room. I’m so sorry Bea, for all the horrible things he put you and Debbie through. I wish I could wipe it all away. I would say that I wish you had never met him but then there would be no Debbie, which is unthinkable. Your beautiful, brave girl! She has so much intelligence, so many talents, and such a passion for life. I know she has an incredible life ahead of her. You worry about her and about how memories like these might have affected her, but you raised her wonderfully. She_ _is_ _wonderful and she’s going to be fine._

_On a lighter note, I’m intrigued to find out what your top three endearments might be. Can I have three guesses? I’m going to start with “Sweetheart”. Let me know if I’m warm._

_It’s very exciting to know that your case might be a test for a new law. “Non-fatal strangulation”. I have to admit I’ve never heard of it, but I mentioned it to Kaz when I spoke to her yesterday, and she seemed to know all about it. She was thrilled. I think you might be her new hero. I’m so proud to know you. So proud of the difference you will make to other victims. You’re_ _my_ _hero too._

_I wish I had known you were going to the hospital. I would have staked it out just for a glimpse of you! At least at Wentworth they are taking your health seriously. I Googled “post-concussion syndrome”. Apparently it can be worse if you received the blow to your head during the second half of your cycle because you lose the protective effect of progesterone. Can you remember if that’s when it was? The advice on the Internet is to stay off screens as much as you can to minimise your symptoms - I don’t suppose that’ll be too difficult._

_I’m really looking forward to Debbie’s birthday. Of course I’ll take lots of photos. I thought she would want to go out and celebrate but she’s asked if she can have some friends round. I’m really touched that she wants to bring them home. Don’t worry, I won’t let it get out of hand. You said in your letter that you wonder why I got into fostering after spending so much time looking after my brothers. I must be a glutton for punishment! Some of those kids gave me a hard time but it was always rewarding to see even the smallest glimpses of connection. Besides, Kaz taught me the value of a helping hand at the right moment. And Debbie has been the icing on the cake. Speaking of cake, do you think Deb would want a chocolate cake? Or I have a great recipe, vanilla with a passionfruit topping …_

_Can’t wait to see you,_

_Love Allie x_

⁂

**Wed 26/03/14**

**Dear Allie,**

**Shit. I have a court date. 28th July ...**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was all very fragmented and I have done my best to whip it into shape. I am putting us on a little bit of a ⏩ because, otherwise, this story will be a life sentence in itself!  
> Hope you like it. Please let me know ⬇ Hitch ❤


	20. "Last Request"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which time passes and a request is more than honoured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind readers. I hope that wherever you are in the world you are keeping safe. Thanks for all the comments on last week's chapter. It's very helpful and motivating to know that people are reading and engaging with the story. Here's the next bit.

Maybe I should have had some breakfast, Allie reflected. At the time there had been no question of eating anything. Her stomach had rebelled at the very idea. Debbie hadn’t looked much better; pale and almost silent as she choked down some toast. Nova had been skittishly dancing around them whilst they got ready, apparently picking up on their tension. Day one was bound to be the most nerve wracking, wasn’t it? After they had got used to the look and feel of the courtroom, the routine of where to go and when; once they had got an idea of whether the trial was going their way or not; once they had laid eyes on Bea … then they would feel calmer. But right now, waiting in this carpeted hallway, Allie just hoped she wouldn’t have to make a dash for the toilet. She glanced at Debbie who was seated next to her. She was staring blankly ahead whilst her fingers picked nervously at her nails. Allie reached out and took her hand, squeezing it in what she hoped was a comforting way. Debbie’s eyes flicked to hers and she gave a small, grateful smile. Allie might not have succeeded in reassuring her, but hopefully she understood that she was not alone in this.

Suddenly there was bustle all around them, the doors to the courtroom opened and everyone began to file in. Allie and Debbie followed along. Josephine was inside, imposingly robed in black, and had obviously been looking out for them. She gestured to two seats not far behind her which had been labelled as reserved. Allie took Debbie’s hand again and led her to their places. As the courtroom filled up she looked around at the simple wooden furnishings and the muted carpet, all the while aware of the tense thrumming of her nerves.

“Okay Deb?” she asked. Debbie just nodded, although her eyes were wide and her cheeks and lips pale. Allie examined her tense little face, so like Bea’s and yet entirely her own. Was she feeling sick? Faint, maybe? She had some mints in her bag. Perhaps one of those would help. She began rummaging only for Deb to instigate a tight grip on her forearm.

“Here she comes,” she whispered excitedly. 

⁂

Allie’s hands trembled with anticipation as she tried to get the key into the lock. She finally gave up the attempt with a frustrated huff.

“Here. You do it Deb.” She proffered the key to Debbie at arm’s length as though it was toxic. Debbie took it from her and within a moment had the door open and was searching for the light switch. It flickered on with a hum, illuminating the metal shelves of the storage container. Here it all was; the physical remnants of Bea and Debbie’s former life. Allie looked around in a daze. She had known that this would be difficult for Deb but had been unprepared for the effect on her own emotions … because this room was an Aladdin's cave of Bea-ness. Everywhere Allie looked she could see her clothes, her books, her cookware … everything, packed into this small space. Allie was dizzied by the idea that she could look at everything and it would tell her so much about Bea. She dearly wanted to, and the temptation was almost overwhelming. But she wouldn’t. It would be like cheating; taking a short cut. She yearned to know Bea inside out, of course she did, but she wanted Bea herself to be the one to guide her. It would be so much better to get the slow reveal, the likes and dislikes, her taste, her history, as those things came up naturally in the many years Allie had convinced herself they would share together. So they would get what they came for and get out of here.

“Mum’s clothes will be over here I should think,” Debbie said, whisking off a dust-sheet and beginning to rattle through some clothes on a hanging rail. When Allie remained stationary by the door she glanced over curiously. “Aren’t you gunna help me look?” Allie shook her head.

“I’ll just wait here. Don’t forget she’ll need the shoes to go with it.” Debbie nodded.

“Okay.” She rummaged some more until she found a hanger covered with a plastic garment bag. Peeking inside, she declared it to be the suit they had been looking for. She passed it to Allie whilst she continued looking along the rail. “And this is the blouse she used to wear with it most of the time.” Debbie passed it to Allie. “I’ll just find the shoes …” But Allie was barely listening, hypnotised by the sensation of the blouse against her hand. This piece of fabric belonged to what was just an ordinary blouse, but the knowledge that it was Bea’s made it extraordinary. It was a subtly sheened garment with a tiny, subtle leopard print in navy over a rust coloured background which was almost the colour of Bea’s hair. Allie loved it, loved the feel of it, could imagine Bea wearing it, despite the fact that she had never seen Bea in anything other than the teal and white of the prison uniform. In a trance she lifted it to her face hoping to breathe in any lingering traces of Bea’s scent. “Probably could do with a wash, eh?” Debbie asked from her position, crouching over some boxes.

“Yeah,” Allie croaked, clearing her throat to mask her embarrassment at being caught out.

“These are the ones,” Debbie announced triumphantly, holding up a pair of smart shoes. She stood. “Right. Let’s get out of here,” she said, looking around with an air of detachment.

“Isn’t there anything you want to grab for yourself whilst we’re here?” Allie asked. “Clothes, books …”

“Can’t really think of anything, and …” Her eyes strayed to the opposite corner of the locker. “All that stuff was dad’s. I don’t wanna even look at it.” Allie ushered her out as quickly as she could. Once in the corridor she juggled the suit and blouse whilst locking the door behind her. Leaning back against the locked door she exhaled with relief. This place had had a pull and a push effect on both of them, for different reasons, and she was relieved to be out of there. Looking over she saw that Debbie’s brows were arcing in a way that she knew well.

“Come here,” she said, pulling Debbie to her. At that the girl gave up her battle to stop her tears and sobbed against Allie like she had not done in weeks. Allie squeezed her and rocked her. Nothing she said could change the facts of Debbie’s past. All she could hope was that moments like this would become rarer as Debbie went through her life and that she would be on hand to comfort her when it became too much.

“You know what I could do with right now?” Allie asked, once Debbie’s tears had abated. The curly head shook from side to side against her shoulder. “A couple of slices of pizza and maybe something chocolatey to finish up.” Debbie stepped back, wiping her face.

“Sounds good. Papa Gino’s?” she asked with a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

“Ah, alright …” Allie replied, faking some reluctance. “I reckon we deserve a treat. You’ll be having the Aussie no doubt?”

“Absolutely. Followed by a chocolate crepe.” She glared at Allie. “And don’t you order that Tropical thing … That’s a travesty of a pizza.” Allie laughed.

“I’ll order what I please, Miss. But I’m feeling the Napoletana today. And then afterwards we can drop this off at the dry cleaners.”

⁂

**Wed 26/03/14**

**Dear Allie,**

**Shit. I have a court date. 28th July. That’s four months away. It sounds ridiculously distant and terrifyingly soon at the same time. Will we be ready? Josephine says we will be. I trust her judgement but so much hangs on it - the difference between a life and no life at all. I have to admit that I'm panicking slightly and I wish you were here. You would know exactly the right thing to say to puncture this bubble of fear. You would make me laugh, touch my hand and then say something to make me blush. I miss you sweetheart. (Yes, “sweetheart”. One down, two to go.)**

**I suppose what I'm afraid of, apart from getting a heavy sentence, is how I will cope when I'm on the stand. And how I will cope when I have to listen to what everyone else has to say about me. I don't want to fall apart in front of an audience. And I can't afford to get angry. But I suppose I still have some time to work on myself. Josephine is going to drill me on how to respond to the prosecutor and I will ask Dr Westfall if she can help me control my emotions in court. I feel more confident already, Allie. Talking to you always helps.**

**Speaking of Dr Westfall … You should see Franky glowing when she comes back from one of their sessions. The first week she looked shocked, like she'd been slammed in the face with a plank of wood. When I asked her how it had gone she just said, "She didn't go easy on me Red," shook her head, disappeared into her room and closed the door. But now … I can only assume they're making progress because she seems easier in herself and more infatuated with Bridget (it didn't take Franky long to find out her name!) than ever. It's just as well that Kim gets out in a few days because Franky is not making much of an attempt to disguise this new attachment.**

**So we are planning a farewell party for Kim. She seems terrified to be leaving Wentworth and Franky. She'd truly rather stay here. But Franky has told her that it's over between them as soon as she's released and that she'll break her arms if she sees her in here again. I can see that Kim believes her and she's heartbroken. I think Franky's outgrown her but still, she wants her to get out and make a life for herself. I was wondering if it would be okay for me to pass her Kaz's number. Just as a safety net. She has no one on the outside and could really use some help.**

**Thank you for being with Deb when she spoke to the paralegal. And thank you for telling me what Debbie said so that the first time I hear it isn't in court. I guess I knew she hadn't forgotten about that night but it was easier to pretend she had. (You are really getting to see all the best aspects of my character!) The ironic thing is that, although there was a lot of blood, that wasn't one of the most serious wounds I got from Harry. Scalp wounds just bleed like crazy. Still, I went and got stitched up at the hospital so I suppose there are medical records that can be produced in court. I wish Deb had brought those bad memories to me but it's not always easy to raise these things with the other person who lived through them. I'm so glad she has you to talk to.**

**Now I have a bone to pick with you. Debbie tells me that, not only did you get her a new laptop for her birthday but also a bike. That's too extravagant Allie! And I know you can't have been devoting as much time to your work as you usually do. Please don't let everything that** **we've** **got going on cause you financial problems. Are you even listening? You give her everything she needs already without buying her stuff.**

**But thank you for taking her to Jock's. I can't believe you did that - carrying on our little ice cream ritual - that was so precious. Thank you. Deb was quite choked up when she told me about it so I know she appreciated it too. I hardly need to say that I wish I could have been there. Don't forget to send me some photos when you get the chance. I'll expect one of you too, sweetheart, but fully clothed if you don't mind. This place is full of the sexually deprived …**

**… Love Bea.**

⁂

Allie trailed her fingers mindlessly along the rack, her head full of red curls and a navy suit. This was the open state of mind that she tried to enter when shopping for clothes, having found that it reduced frustration and led to some wonderfully unexpected finds. Today she wanted to buy another couple of tops for Bea to wear for her trial because it would almost certainly last for more than one day. Also, she would also need some sheer tights for her sexy legs. Sheer but respectable would probably be a better look for court than sheer and sexy, she mused, although the legs remained sexy whatever you put them in. And if she happened to spot something cute for herself or Deb, so be it. Out of the edge of her eye, she could see that a shop assistant had locked onto her and was approaching rapidly. She gave an inward sigh.

"Can I help you find something?" the young woman asked brightly. Before Allie could reply she had already moved onto her next question. "Are you looking for yourself? Something for work?" Allie shook her head to dismiss her as quickly as possible, but at the last moment a mischievous impulse changed her mind.

"Actually, maybe you can help me." The woman smiled at her attentively. "I'm looking for some blouses for my girlfriend. She's in prison but her trial is coming up soon and she'll need to look smart in court. Any suggestions?" The assistant's smile faltered and she actually opened and closed her mouth twice whilst she searched for a reply. But she recovered quickly and with a surprisingly sympathetic look steered Allie over to another rack.

"These are from our workwear range and are sure to impress. Some are even on sale just now. Do you have her size?" Allie was taken aback slightly by how unfazed she was, but told her the size of the blouse she had collected from the storage unit, detailed Bea's colouring and gave her a description of the navy suit that she would be wearing. Twenty minutes later they had, between them, chosen one aqua blue Oxford shirt and one cream blouse. The aqua one was crisp and business-like and the cream one had a satiny drape that Allie loved. Both were smart and should impress the jury but it was a private viewing of each that Allie was fantasising about: Bea in the aqua one with an extra button undone and not a single other stitch on; the cream one clinging to the curves of her bust as Allie skimmed her hands down the sides of her breasts. She blinked rapidly to clear these images and followed the shop assistant over to the desk.

"Thank you so much for your help," Allie told the assistant as she rang up the items on the register. She felt bad; she had only said what she had to make her back off and leave her alone but this young woman had been totally non-judgemental and professional. And Allie was annoyed with herself for referring to Bea as her girlfriend. It felt all wrong when she and Bea had not even discussed what they might call each other. 

"You're welcome," she replied, handing her the bag. "My aunt was inside for a while," she said in a low, confidential tone, and with a hard swallow. "It nearly killed my mum, so I know how hard it is for the family." Allie just nodded. Her eyes stung. The kindness of strangers, she reflected, is the most affecting kind. "Good luck for the trial," she added.

"Thanks."

⁂

**Fri 11/07/14**

**Dear Allie,**

**I think I’m going to have to put you out of your misery. You got lucky with “sweetheart” but you’ve been striking out ever since. I’m not giving you “sweet lips” despite it being an accurate description. (Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten, and could never forget, how your lips taste even though it has been quite a few months since what you like to call “our little hook up” in Medical.) Your guesses have ranged from the inappropriate (“Honeypot”) to the absurd (“Snookum”) and included some vomit inducing ones (“Cuddle Bunny” remember that one?) and you are no nearer to getting positions one and three. (Yes “Sweetheart” is in position two but I doubt that will help you.) So let me know in your next letter if you want me to reveal all. (Behave.)**

**So, with the trial looming I’m starting to feel the nerves kick in. If you could persuade Debbie not to sit through it I would be grateful, but when I spoke to her last she was determined that she would be there. I suppose she wants to be supportive and I understand that but I don’t want her to have to listen to anything she won’t be able to cope with. And I don’t want her to hear her mother reduced to a psychological diagnosis. On a rational level she will know that I’m more than just whatever they label me, but I can’t help but worry that she will forever think of me in those terms.**

**And Allie, you don’t have to sit through it either. What kind of relationship begins this way - with us kept apart so much and you being subjected to all of my most shameful actions (and inactions) and my worst weaknesses? I wish for nothing more than that we had met under normal circumstances and we could have had a normal “courtship” or whatever this is called. For that to have happened I would need to travel back in time and not kill Harry. But if I hadn’t killed Harry, you wouldn’t have needed to look after Debbie and we would never have met. It’s a paradox that my mind can’t resolve. But you should know that, come sentencing, you are free to walk away and never see me again. I wouldn’t hold it against you. In fact I would applaud you for your courage and for your ability to prioritise your own wellbeing. Though I hope you won’t walk away from Deb.**

**Speaking of the trial, Miss Bennett reminded me that I will need something to wear. So I have one last request. Would either you or Debbie mind dropping round to the storage unit and collecting my navy suit? It’s the only thing I can think that I own that would be suitable for court. I’ll need a top and some shoes too. Sorry to give you something else to do. I know you’re busy. Either of you can just leave it at reception next time you visit.**

**Do you remember me saying that we were getting a new person to fill Kim’s old cell? Well she’s arrived. Her name is Maxine. As soon as Franky saw how tall and strong she is she was trying to recruit her as muscle since Boomer’s back is still bad. Maxine is not at all interested. She seems like a gentle person - so quietly spoken - but she stood up to Franky alright. I like her already. I have to say that Franky surprised me by not pushing too hard. I think Dr Westfall (or more specifically, Franky’s wish to stay on her good side) is having a positive effect on her. She has even persuaded Franky to receive a visit from her dad, which Franky swore (and I mean swore!) would never happen. Doreen has joined the prison gardening project, which seems to agree with her, and Liz is keeping away from the grog. So as soon as Boomer’s back is better H2 will be at full strength and fighting fit. But all is unusually peaceful at the moment, and this place is more like how I would imagine an all-girls school than a prison … if the girls were tattooed, shiv wielding maniacs that is. Just kidding, sweetheart. I’m perfectly safe …**

**Love Bea x**

⁂

“Here she comes,” Debbie whispered excitedly. The teen’s hand gripped tightly on her arm. Allie’s excavation of her bag had failed to turn up the expected mints. She knew they were in there somewhere, probably right at the bottom, but this was hardly the time or place to dump everything out on the floor, even though she badly wanted an excuse not to look up and see Bea and so start this whole process in motion. It was illogical, she knew, but suddenly she needed a little more time to adjust to the idea that Bea’s trial was finally starting. The next few days would determine the course of the rest of their lives, but it was childish to think that she could slow time by refusing to look up. Allie took a deep breath and raised her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have made a quantum leap that I hope was not too jarring. We need to get to the trial sooner rather than later. If you have any thoughts on this, or any other aspect of the story, please let me know in the usual way. Hitch ❤


	21. "A Nice Touch"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which preparations are made for an important day, and touches real and imaginary bring comfort and support.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Thanks for continuing to follow this story. Here is the next chapter.

The trip in the brawler was punishing. She rocked from side to side on the hard bench with only a bad tempered Miss Miles for company, and she wasn’t talking, so Bea was left to fret in silence, almost incredulous that this moment had actually arrived. In a few minutes she would be at the courthouse and her trial would begin. She had hardly slept the last two nights and now her head was overflowing with half remembered advice from Josephine. Show sadness but not anger; speak slowly and clearly; make eye contact with the jury members when you speak; be honest about your fear. There was no way she was going to remember all of that when the questions began. But it was unlikely that her turn to speak would come today. First would come jury empanelment, charges, opening statements and so on. The prosecution had witnesses to call before anyone got around to her. She clung to that idea. All she would need to do today would be to stay calm. She remembered what Allie had said about imagining their hands joined together and took a shaky breath. Closing her eyes she mentally placed the two of them in the visitor’s room, their hands touching across the table, Allie’s bright eyes riveted on her face.

⁂

_Saturday 29th March 2014_

_Dear Bea,_

_Okay. So, imagine I'm holding your hand. Imagine my thumb in your palm and then on your wrist, circling gently. Can you feel it? Imagine my eyes on yours. Now, listen up._

_Babe, four months is plenty. You are going to be_ _so_ _ready. You have everything waiting for you on the outside, everything to fight for. You're right to point out that there's a lot at stake: there is. But that's exactly when you're at your strongest. Look at what happened when Debbie was in danger from Jacs. You knew what to do and you did it even though it scared you. You used your head, made a plan, and stuck to it. And that's what you're going to do now. You have a great team around you. Let them help you._

_Ah, so I was right with “sweetheart”. Gotcha! Okay, so I'm thinking that you're a traditionalist when it comes to pet names so I'm going to go with “darling” for my next guess. Or darlin'. That's jaunty. "Allie, darlin', pass the salt." Or, "Take me to bed, darlin'" Um, I like the sound of that one._

_How's your fear now? Bubble punctured? I hope you're blushing or laughing or both. I hate it that I can't be with you when you need me. But we have our visits, the occasional phone call (when you are mostly sexily monosyllabic, but that’s okay, I enjoy hearing you breathe) and these letters. I hope you know how much I look forward to them, treasure them and reread them. Our postie looks very startled when I practically ambush him by the door and snatch the post out of his hand._

_It sounds like your mate Franky has got it bad for Dr Westfall. Do you get the feeling it's mutual? Or is she fooling herself? Do you reckon they're getting it on in the doc's office? If so, I don't blame them. I wish I could get another ten minutes alone with you in medical. I would hold your face in my hands and kiss you senseless. And this time my fingers might stray under the hem of that very alluring hospital gown. Would you like that? I can imagine your skin under my hands very clearly and … I just felt a band of electricity streak up my leg at the thought. Perhaps I should take a break here to cool off …_

_Enclosed are some photos: two of Debbie playing at the concert, two of her with her mates scoffing pizza in the kitchen on her birthday (as you can see she is wearing the jumper you got her), one of Deb at Jock’s looking about eight years old with an ice cream sandwich jammed in her mouth, and one of yours truly, as requested. I hope these brighten up your room and you take great pleasure in looking at them. Especially the one of me, obviously, but keep it away from the sexually deprived, not to mention the sexually depraved._

_The concert went off pretty smoothly (Debbie was, of course, the star) with only a few bum notes. I must admit that when we first went into the auditorium I felt like such a fraud, knowing it ought to be you there enjoying her success and not me. But Deb’s teacher came and introduced himself and I immediately felt easier. Dad loved it, humming the tunes the whole way home in the car. Deb was concentrating hard throughout but giddy with triumph at the end. I’m not sure she’s come down from her high yet. I have filmed the whole thing on my phone for posterity and I dare to hope it won’t be too long before you can watch it._

_Debbie really has a nice bunch of friends. You probably know some or all of them already. As you can see from the photos they all had a great time on her birthday and a couple of them even helped clear up the mess afterwards. You should have seen the number of pizzas and the amount of cake (chocolate of course, as predicted) they got through. As far as Debbie’s presents are concerned I’m afraid she has made them sound more generous than they are. The laptop she needs for school as her old one moves more slowly than an arthritic possum. And the bike was second hand. Plus it was as much a present for me as for her because it means we can try out some of the local cycle routes together. Nothing too strenuous, believe me, because I’m not in any kind of shape for that, but just some good clean fun …_

_… All my love, Allie._

⁂

She fanned the photographs out on her bed to look at them again more closely. The ones of Debbie she would put up on her wall so that, not only could she see them every day but her friends could look at them too. Franky and the others always took an interest in what Debbie was up to and admired the photos whenever they came into her cell. For Liz it was difficult, Bea knew. Her own kids would have nothing to do with her after she had accidentally killed their grandmother whilst drunk. But Liz never let her own misfortune get in the way of her showing her joy at Bea’s happier circumstance. She inspected the one of Debbie in her birthday jumper. Allie was generous to say that it was from Bea because Allie had chosen it, collected it, paid for it and wrapped it. All Bea had done was choose blindly between blue and brown. But she had to admit that it looked good on her.

The one of Debbie at Jock's made Bea smile helplessly every time her eyes landed on it. But it was bittersweet to look at: she hated that she had missed out on that outing but loved that Allie had stood in for her. In the picture Debbie was wearing her green and white gingham school uniform, so Allie must have taken her there on the way home from school. Her curly haired girl did indeed look much younger than her seventeen years with her mouth bulging, eyes crossing and a slick of chocolate ice cream on her chin. It was a funny picture and Bea wondered what Debbie would say if she knew that Allie had sent it to her. 

The ones from the concert couldn't have been more of a contrast. In these Deb looked preternaturally grown up. She was smartly dressed all in black with her hair tied back neatly and a look of furious concentration on her face as she glared at the sheet music on her stand. Bea peered closer. That make-up job was so subtly done that it must be Allie’s handiwork. Tears rose up behind her lids as she imagined Allie helping Debbie get ready, soothing her nerves, carrying her equipment to the car. Where she might naturally have felt envy she felt only gratitude and joy, that the two most important people in her life had formed this closeness and compatibility. If Bea was given a lengthy sentence would Allie stay the course and stand in for her at all the other important moments in her life?

She pulled the final picture towards her - the one of Allie. This was surely snapped by Debbie at a moment when Allie was completely unaware that she was being photographed, such was the artlessness of her pose. It depicted her reclining in the backyard hammock with Nova in her lap and an open paperback face down on her chest. One hand was employed in scratching the cat under her chin whilst the other was thrown carelessly over her head. But it was the expression on her face that Bea’s gaze kept returning to. Her eyes were closed, her face turned up in enjoyment of the sun’s rays, her lips curling in such a pleased smile that Bea’s mouth unconsciously mirrored it. It was the face of a woman who, in that moment, believed that she had everything she could possibly want _and knew it_. The face of someone who lived in the moment and knew how to take pleasure in the everyday things that others might allow to pass by without appreciation. It was a gift that Allie had, but one that Bea felt she had still to master.

"What have we got here, then?" Franky's brash tone cut into her reverie. Bea had been so lost in her thoughts that she clearly hadn't noticed the others coming back onto the unit. Franky had no doubt stuck her head round Bea's door without knocking, as she generally did. But before Bea could respond Franky had plucked the print out of her hand, Boomer and the others crowding in behind her. 

"Hey …"

"Blondie's sent you a pin-up for your wall, I see," she said with an impish grin. "Not bad," she said in an admiring tone. "Did she send one for me?"

"No," Bea replied pointedly, looking for an opportunity to grab the photo back. "In fact she specifically instructed me to keep it away from the sexually depraved."

"My reputation precedes me I see," Franky commented with a blinding smile, passing the picture to Boomer. 

"Give that back …" Bea snapped in frustration, reaching out for it just as Boomer passed it back to Doreen, her hand closing on fresh air. "C'mon guys, quit fooling … don't crease it ..." _Shit. She sounded like a child._ The picture had made it to Liz by this time. The blonde woman looked at the photo and smiled.

"Ah, that's lovely, love." Bea rolled her eyes. Was there no privacy in this place? Liz looked at the print for a long moment during which the others appeared to lose interest and drifted back into the communal area. After a minute Liz looked up at Bea. Something about the knowingness of that look made Bea flush up hotly. "Ignore Franky's teasing," she said, offering the photo back to her. "She's just pleased for you and doesn't know how else to show it." Bea wouldn't look at her, embarrassed that Franky and Liz had divined her supposed secret with so little effort and determined not to confirm their suspicions by any gleam or expression in her eyes. Bea took the picture out of Liz's hand and turned away. 

"Thanks," she muttered, stepping back into her room and closing the door behind her.

⁂

_Sunday 20th July 2014_

_Dear Bea,_

_I’m so sorry not to have managed a letter to you earlier in the week, but I was really busy with work and then I wanted to wait until I could let you know that Debbie and I have successfully collected your suit. It looks good but I took it to the dry cleaner’s yesterday anyway, just to make sure that you make the very best impression. We picked up some shoes and a blouse at the same time, but then it occurred to me that you will almost certainly need a change of top, so, if you don’t mind, I will go shopping and choose you something and then drop the whole package off later in the week. Do you trust me to select something you’ll like? I hope so because I really like the idea of shopping for you. It’s a very sexy idea. If only you could come with me and we could be wildly inappropriate in the changing room …_

_I’m gutted that you think I’m never going to guess the other two pet names you're planning to call me. You must have chosen something obscure, but I don’t think I’m ready to give up this game just yet. In fact I think I would rather be patient and hear one of those endearments fall naturally from your lips in a moment of tenderness or passion. Because we will have some of those and, with your trial now so close, I can feel my heart speed up at the thought that it might not be too long before we are together._

_I have taken note of what you wrote in your last letter about feeling as though we are missing out on having a normal courtship. You’re right of course and we deserve to have that - you especially, since I don’t suppose you ever experienced anything along those lines with Harry - and I swear to you that I will do my best to give you that when you get out. Never will a woman have been romanced like you will be Bea Smith. You’ll be wined and dined until your head spins. You’ve been so very forgiving of my past and I mean to convince you that I’m worthy of your time and affection by swathing you in love and attention. Romantic dinners out, cosy dinners in; picnics in the park, breakfast in bed. It’s all yours for the taking._

_I’m glad to hear that the new girl, Maxine, is fitting in well and that things remain calm inside. This is just what you need to allow yourself to concentrate on your trial. I know you are bound to be getting more and more nervous as the days go by, but, when you feel like it’s getting too much, just imagine that my hand is in yours. In my heart it is always there …_

_… All my love Allie, x_

⁂

"It looks like someone has kindly provided you with a selection," Miss Bennett remarked as she placed a pile of clothing on Bea's bunk. Her large eyes were luminous with kind amusement and the sympathy for which she was well known. Bea swallowed. Although Allie had prepared her for this, she was still vastly touched by the effort she had gone to to make sure that she had everything she needed for this most important day. "I've been through everything, so I'll leave you to get ready and an officer will come and collect you in about half an hour."

"Thanks Miss Bennett," Bea murmured, her gaze glued to the pile of clothes as though it might disappear if she took her eyes off it for a moment. She picked up and shook out her suit jacket and skirt, half noticing that her shoes were at the bottom of the stack. She ran her fingertips over the smooth cotton of a brand new pale turquoise shirt and smiled. Such a cheerful shade; it reminded her of the runners that Allie sometimes wore. Holding it out in front of her she could see that it had been laundered so that it had lost its shop stiffness. It felt soft but looked crisp and it smelled faintly of Allie, or rather, of the laundry detergent that she used.

She smiled and laid it to one side. Picking up the next item she felt a prickle of goosebumps raise the hairs on her arms. This cream coloured confection of satiny fabric was so "Allie" that she almost expected her to appear from behind it. In fact, hadn't Allie been wearing something similar the very first time she saw her? After just one look at it Bea knew without doubt that it was Allie's favourite and that she would wear this one today. For luck.

Beneath the cream blouse lay her old favourite blouse, a few pairs of tights and her shoes. Bea picked up her old blouse and immediately discarded it. She could hardly bear to look at it. It was like a fossil or a dinosaur bone; something faintly repellent from an earlier age. She couldn't wear it. Out with the old, in with the new. She smiled to herself: something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue. Where was that from? Her thoughts were dissipated by a gentle tapping on her door.

"Come in."

"Hi."

"Hi Maxi."

"How's it going?" Maxine asked with a sympathetic grimace. 

"Good." Bea blinked rapidly as her brain reminded her of what was coming. One hand came up to nervously adjust her hair. "Just gotta get changed." Maxine held up a small zippered case.

"How about I do your make-up? Can't have wobbly lipstick on a day like today." Maxine's thoughtfulness stilled her for a moment. Then she nodded. 

"Thanks."

Twenty minutes later she was made-up and dressed. While Bea was nervously rearranging her hair Maxine was ferreting through her makeup bag.

“Here,” she finally blurted, triumphantly holding up a slender gold chain. “I managed to sneak this in with me. How about you wear it …?”

“I couldn’t Maxi …” Bea began.

“Not for keeps. Just borrow it. It’ll bring you good luck.”

“I guess I could use some of that,” Bea admitted, allowing Maxine to fasten it around her neck.

“There. You look stunning.” Bea smiled at herself in her cloudy mirror. She had to admit that the necklace was a nice touch. _Something borrowed._

⁂

"Smith! Let's go," Smiles hollered as Bea dawdled, saying goodbye to her friends. There was a final round of hand slaps and fist bumps and then a chorus of farewells and good luck wishes followed her out of the unit, overlapping and fading as she took that lonely walk along the corridor.

"Good luck love!"

"You look like a million dollars Bea."

"Knock 'em dead Red!"

"Don't worry. You'll be right."

"Eh, Bea … tits and teeth!"

" _What_?" Bea heard Liz ask.

"It’s somefin I read in a magazine ..."

“I don’t think that’s appropriate for _court_ , Boomer …”

Bea smiled to herself. With friends like these, how could she fail?

⁂

The brawler came to a halt and there was a painful pause while Bea waited for the officer to walk around and unlock the doors. Her heart started up its anxious tattoo once more so that she could feel the sickeningly rapid tidal rise and fall of blood in her throat. Gasping for breath, she fought against the uprush of panic. It’s just anxiety, she told herself, resisting the blackness that was edging into her field of vision. Then a hand touched down lightly on her arm.

“Alright Smith. Take a breath.” She did. And then another. As her vision cleared she was able to focus on the sardonic countenance of Officer Miles, surprised to see a glimmer of sympathy in her usually disinterested gaze. “Don’t pass out on me. I can do without the extra paperwork,” she said flatly. Bea nodded and gave a small smile, recognising this brusque exchange as a tiny offer of support. “Ready?”

Stepping out onto the damp Tarmac, Bea looked around. So this was the Supreme Court of Victoria. It didn’t look like this on the telly, but then they only ever showed the grand frontage, not this unprepossessing back entrance. She looked up at the sky. It was still overcast with white cloud but the earlier rain had stopped and the chill of the fresh air was like a kick in the head, waking her up. The air never tasted this good at Wentworth. Maybe soon she would be breathing the air of freedom all the time. She discarded that thought hastily, superstitious that it might jinx the outcome.

Smiles led her inside through a scuffed door. They made their way through one utilitarian corridor, then another, then up a flight of stairs into some kind of antechamber. Here they waited for several minutes, Bea struggling to remain calm. Eventually a court official stuck his head around a second door. 

“They’re ready for you,” he told Smiles, barely sparing a glance for Bea. Bea took a step forward, suddenly impatient for the waiting to be over, but Smiles held her back with one hand, brandishing a key in her eyeline.

“Let’s take the cuffs off first, shall we?” Bea paused while Officer Miles unlocked them. Once the handcuffs were removed Bea hastily adjusted the cuffs of her blouse so that they would show from beneath her jacket. Now Smiles was the one waiting impatiently, so she just rolled her shoulders inside her jacket to relieve some tension, and, taking Allie’s metaphorical hand, stepped through the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry - we didn't quite make it to the trial. I hope you enjoyed this chapter despite that. But next week the gavel comes down - one way or the other! ⚖  
> Hitch ❤


	22. "A Jury of Her Peers"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a verdict is recorded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written a trial!  
> Apologies - I forgot to write a trigger warning on this. This is Bea's trial and includes her first person testimony of how Harry abused her. If you are likely to find this upsetting please read the first half and then skip to the last section. Best wishes, Hitch.

Allie looked up and there was Bea, standing in the fenced off area intended for the accused, as pale as Deb, but beautiful as only she could be, erect and solid in her smart navy blue suit. The cream. _Of course._ It was perfect, reflecting the pale winter morning onto Bea’s face, making her almost glow with an ethereal light. That indirect illumination showed up her formidable bone structure, emphasising her strong cheekbones and brows. But it also lit up her complexion, making her appear as translucent and delicate as a bone china teacup. Allie’s head swam dizzily with an abrupt surge of love. Here in clear daylight was the central paradox of Bea, and maybe the starting point of Allie’s fascination with her: fortitude and fragility in one compact bundle.

Their eyes met and Allie felt that familiar pressing sensation on her solar plexus that left her lungs empty. Bea made the tiniest movement of her lips. Only Allie could possibly have recognised this as the smile it was intended to be. She interpreted Bea’s expression easily now. She could see that Bea feared the court but was full of hope. That she was glad to see them whilst at the same time she wished they didn’t have to witness this. But still, she _was_ glad to see them. Allie smiled back. She put all her love and courage into it and watched as Bea, predictably, dipped her head shyly.

She turned to Debbie to see how she was faring. Her pallor had been replaced by a high flush and her eyes were fixed feverishly on her mother.

“Deb. Debbie …” The girl tore her eyes away with difficulty. “Are you okay? You look a bit hot.”

“I’m fine …” She tossed her head irritably as Allie tried to feel her forehead with her hand. “I’m not sick … And I’m not a child.” Allie backed off, unoffended.

“I know. It’s just … it would be understandable …”

“Silence. All stand,” intoned a court official. He had a grandfatherly face but a stentorian voice. There was a rustle of clothing as everyone got to their feet. The judge entered, robed in red, bowed her head to the court and took her place at the bench. Allie watched Ms Pym glance over at Bea and send her an encouraging look. Bea gave a tiny nod in response and squared her shoulders. “All persons having business before this honourable court are commanded to give their attendance and they shall be heard. God save the Queen. Be seated please.” 

“Will the accused please stand.” Allie couldn’t take her eyes off Bea as she came to her feet promptly and lifted her chin bravely. “Is your full name Beatrice Erin Smith?”

“It is.” Allie was proud to hear that her voice was clear and unwavering despite her obvious nerves.

“Beatrice Erin Smith. You are charged that on the fourth of January two-thousand and fourteen you killed Harry James Smith. How do you plead? Guilty or not guilty?”

“Not guilty.” Bea looked to Ms Pym and her team as she said this. Allie knew that this was the plea they had decided on even though the lawyers had managed to get the charge reduced from murder to voluntary manslaughter. The defence’s case would hinge on the fact that, such was the provocation and duress on Bea during her marriage, that her state of mind would allow no other course of action.

“Mrs Smith, you may be seated.”

⁂

Jury empanellment began. Bea knew that Josephine had a strategy for standing aside any jurors who she felt might be unfavourable to the verdict. Surprisingly, men were generally more likely to find an accused woman not guilty than other women, although younger women were likely to be more forgiving than older ones. So Josephine would do her best to ensure that the jury contained more men than women and to avoid older women altogether, but the prosecution also had the right to stand aside up to six people and they surely had a strategy of their own.

Each juror’s number and occupation was read out and they were either accepted or rejected by the prosecution and defence teams. Those who were accepted took their places in the jury box. Bea watched the proceedings with only half her attention, trusting that Josephine had it in hand, preferring instead to keep her eyes on Debbie and Allie. Deb had looked as worried as hell after the charge had been read out, but seemed to have calmed down a little now. From where she was sitting she could see that Allie was also checking on Deb regularly, dividing her attention between Bea and her daughter, glances for Bea, touches for Debbie. She looked pale, Bea thought regretfully, but watchful rather than worried.

Bea idly watched Allie paw through her bag for something and then hand it to Debbie. Then she looked over and fixed Bea with a particularly significant look. What was she trying to say? Bea observed curiously as she lifted her left hand and laid it palm facing outward against her chest, just below her throat. Then she blinked those celestial eyes languidly and reached up with her right hand, joining her palms together and curling the fingers of both hands around in a firm grip. And then she smiled that heavenly smile that Bea had never seen the like of on anyone else; the smile that always made her think of the sun coming out, the smile that had the power to make her forget everything else. And the message was complete: my hand in your hand, always. Bea struggled with her face. It badly wanted to smile back but it wouldn’t do for the jury to see her grinning her head off at a time like this. After a moment’s thought she lifted her right hand and laid it over her heart as unobtrusively as possible. She risked a glance at her clandestine correspondent and a subtle smile let her know that Allie had received and understood her message.

⁂

“Hey bubba. How’d it go today?”

“Okay.” Allie paused, her phone pressed against her head. How had it gone? She really had no idea. The jury was selected, the opening statements were made and the first of the prosecution witnesses had testified. Police and medics and crime scene techs, all giving their evidence on what they had seen and found: adhesive on Harry’s wrists consistent with blah de blah; such and such a concentration of carbon monoxide in his bloodstream. None of it exactly looked good for Bea but it had all been as they had known it would be, with no surprises. “Thanks for the casserole,” Allie said, too exhausted to go into the trial details. Allie and Debbie had found a dish of Kaz’s famous damper-topped chicken casserole waiting for them on the doorstep when they arrived home.

“I figured you’d be hungry and probably too tired to cook.”

“Yeah, we were pretty done in but the food revived us.”

“Should be enough for tomorrow too.” Allie was silent for a moment, wondering whether to come clean, but it wasn't long before Kaz joined the dots. “You ate the lot, didn’t you?” she said in a wry tone.

“Well I skipped breakfast,” Allie explained defensively. “And Deb’s a growing girl …”

“Debbie is _not_ still growing,” Kaz replied. “She’s just a bottomless pit.”

“True,” Allie said mildly, stifling a yawn.

“I’d better let you get some rest,” Kaz said gently.

“Yeah. Who knew sitting around on a hard chair all day could be so exhausting?” Allie replied.

“Yeah, well, it’s the emotional side that takes it out of you. Look, I know you want to be there for Bea but you’ve gotta look after yourself too kiddo. You can’t create a ‘not guilty’ out of sheer force of will.”

“I know …” Allie began.

“You won’t wanna hear it, but you’ve gotta be prepared …”

“ _I know,”_ Allie snapped. She sighed. “Regardless of what you suppose I feel for Bea, I've got to be there every moment because Debbie is gunna be there every moment. As for the verdict … I’m as prepared as I can be, but if it comes back ‘guilty’, helping Deb process that will be my priority. Because that is _literally_ my job.”

“Okay Allie,” Kaz said placatingly. “I know you take your fostering seriously, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Just remember to rest and eat …”

“I will,” Allie conceded.

“Keep me posted?”

“Of course,” she said with a smile, knowing that she wasn’t the only one who took her mothering seriously. “Night.”

“Night bubba.”

⁂

The next morning Bea woke up with a pang of fear as her lazily circulating consciousness notified her that today was day two of her trial. She had turned in early the evening before, not only exhausted but unable to answer any more of her friends’ concerned questions and knowing she needed to get as much sleep as possible before tomorrow leapt up and demanded that she repeat the day’s ordeal all over again. She had lain first on one side and then on the other, wondering how her bunk had become so uncomfortable all of a sudden. Eventually she had slept. So why didn’t she feel more refreshed? Bea’s whole body flashed with heat momentarily as she recalled last night’s dream. She began laughing, quickly stifling the sound with her hand. No wonder she felt as though she had expended more energy than she had gained.

She had dreamed that she had been waiting in medical when Mr Jackson had shown Allie in. It was just like that time months ago when she had been suffering from concussion. Only this time Allie was carrying the stack of clothes that Miss Bennett had brought to her cell yesterday. She didn’t say a word. She placed the clothes down on the table, gave Bea a mysterious smile and proceeded to undress her, removing the skimpy hospital gown while running her eyes and fingertips over Bea’s bare skin. Both in the dream and in remembering it Bea trembled under her touch. Then, very tenderly, Allie had dressed her. First of all she had slipped on her prison-issue underwear, treating it as though it was the most enticing lingerie rather than the shapeless, baggy abomination it was in reality. Then she picked up the sheer tights that Allie herself had provided.

Bea had sat on the edge of the examination table; Allie had knelt on the floor and rolled the nylon over each of her feet in turn. Smoothing them up her legs she had given Bea a mischievous look before kissing the inside of first one knee and then the other. Seeing that Bea didn’t object to that intimacy, her lips became the vanguard to the advancing army of her fingers as she stretched the tights up Bea’s legs. Bea’s breath caught in her throat at the memory of Allie’s mouth working its way up her thighs. Now, as then, the liquid heat in her belly took her by surprise. Once she reached the top and was within an inch of the apex of Bea’s legs, Allie simply gave Bea a cheeky wink and stood up. Taking Bea’s hands she encouraged her to stand up and then pulled the tights over her hips and waist in a matter-of-fact way, giving Bea a reprieve from the intensity of her feelings that she wasn’t entirely sure she welcomed. She proceeded to help Bea into her blouse and skirt, pausing to admire how she looked before helping her into her jacket. Then she was down on the floor again putting Bea’s feet into her shoes. In the dream Bea had laughed to have been the subject of such an unnecessary show of chivalry, but Allie had continued to take her ministrations seriously. Then, once she was completely dressed, Allie had taken her face in her hands, just like she had described wanting to in her letter, and kissed Bea “senseless”.

Bea could remember nothing more after that, and, although she knew that the whole thing had been nothing but a product of her unconscious mind working in concert with her memories and Allie’s letters, she couldn’t help but feel as though Allie had really been here with her last night. That she had really done those things, shown her that tenderness, readied her for court, given her a preview of how things could be for them once she was released. She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. She wanted to hang onto the remnants of her dream for as long as she could. If she could commend every moment of it to her memory maybe it would be enough to carry her through this trial.

⁂

Day three already. Allie couldn’t relax. Her head was in constant motion, swivelling from one side of the courtroom to the other. She couldn’t sit back in her seat and couldn’t help stretching her spine and peering around as though that would allow her to see something that was currently out of sight. It didn’t help. The problem was that Debbie was in another room, preparatory to giving her evidence on her mother’s behalf. Allie could barely stand not being with her, but Yindi had assured her that she was in good hands.

She caught Bea's eye. She looked very steady. Did she really feel as calm as she looked, or was it a front for Allie's benefit? She was wearing the aqua shirt today and its crisp paleness conferred a cool collectedness to Bea that she couldn't possibly be feeling. Allie rested her eyes on her familiar features and allowed some of that composure to wash over her. Bea gave her a small nod of reassurance and then looked away.

"The defence calls Deborah Ann Smith." Allie could only watch helplessly as Debbie, looking pale and very young, entered the stand. Allie held her breath whilst Debbie took the oath in a voice that grew in confidence as she went along. 

"The evidence I shall give shall be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

"Deborah Ann Smith. You are the defendant's daughter. Is that correct?" Ms Pym asked.

"Yes," Debbie replied firmly leaning forward so that her mouth was close to the microphone, her eyes flying to her mother automatically. Allie watched in fascination as Bea conveyed her confidence and pride in her daughter with nothing more than a steady look. Debbie’s head came up smartly; ready to meet whatever came next.

“Please describe for the court the events of the evening of 8th September 2013.”

“Mum and Dad were in the kitchen when I got home. I had been at my friend Chloe’s house and, because it was a Sunday and there was school the next day, Dad had asked me to be back by nine o’clock. It must have been two minutes past when I walked in and he had already fired himself up into a terrible state. He shouted at me and I apologised but he wouldn't let it go. He kept on, going on and on at me, until I finally burst into tears. Then Mum said ‘Why don’t you go up to your room Deb?’ and Dad just lost it. He was yelling that I was out of control and showed no respect and that it was her fault because she undermined him all the time. He was backing her into a corner and I knew what was coming next. I knew he would hit her soon. Mum was signalling me with her eyes. She wanted me out of the room; out of danger. And also she didn’t want me to see it. But he caught me edging out of the room, grabbed a pan off the stove and swung it right back. I could see it coming for me but I froze. I couldn’t seem to move and I knew it was going to hit me right in the face … but somehow Mum got between us and put her arm up.”

“What happened then Debbie?”

“The sound … it was indescribable. I could tell it was bad right away. That pan was cast iron and really heavy. I told Mum not to move, that I would call for an ambulance. Dad stormed past me and yanked the phone out of the wall. Then he just left and slammed the front door. Drove off. I used my mobile to call the ambulance. When they x-rayed it at the hospital, both bones in her forearm were broken. She had to have plates and screws put in."

"The defence presents exhibits 32 A to J. Mrs Smith's medical records and x-rays from the period following the attack,” Ms Pym said, handing a pile of documents to a court official who checked them off against a list and passed them to the head of the jury. “When you arrived at the hospital, did any of the staff ask you or your mother how she had come to be injured?”

“Yes. Both the nurse and the admitting doctor.”

“And what did you reply?”

“I said what Mum had always taught me to always say: that she’d fallen.”

“Why do you think that your mother had taught you to say that?” Ms Pym asked, in a faux curious tone that had the jury members leaning forward in their seats. The prosecution lawyer got to his feet irritably.

“Objection, your honour. Requires speculation.”

“I’ll allow it,” the judge responded. “Please continue Miss Smith.”

“Because she thought that my dad would find out what she had said and hurt her even worse,” Debbie replied, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. Which it probably was, Allie reflected, to her.

“Did the medical staff question what you had told them?” Ms Pym continued.

“No. But later, when the consultant, Mr Rogers, came in to see her, I said to Mum, right when he was in the room, ‘Please let me tell them what really happened’. Mum just shook her head, but I could tell that he’d heard.”

“And were the police called?”

“No.”

“Social services?”

“No.”

“Was there any follow up at all?”

“No.”

“Thank you Debbie. Now I’d like to ask you about …”

The questioning went on, first about the time that Harry cut Bea with a bottle and then about the day of Harry’s death. Allie could see Debbie visibly tiring as the questions continued and, from the corner of her eye, she could see Bea stirring in her seat, as though at any moment she would stand up and tell the lawyers to leave her little girl alone. When the cross examination by the prosecution began Debbie looked wary but continued to answer confidently.

“Miss Smith, was your father correct to say that your mother undermined his authority?”

“Miss Smith, is it possible that you have misremembered the events of that night?”

“Miss Smith, how can you be sure that Mr Rogers heard your question to your mother?”

“Miss Smith, isn’t it the case that your mother sent you away from the house that day so that you would not interfere with her plans for killing your father?”

Debbie didn’t like that one. Allie noticed her chin come up pugnaciously.

“No. She sent me away because she knew he was planning something and she needed to know that I was safe.”

“Did she tell you this?”

“No, she didn’t need to! I could see the mood he was in. He was escalating, looking for excuses …”

“Or she thought you might object when she taped his wrists to the steering wheel and gassed him …”

“Objection,” Ms Pym put in with a flash of her eyes. “Inflammatory …”

“Sustained,” the judge ruled.

“No further questions, your honour,” the prosecution lawyer said, retaking his seat. Ms Pym asked Debbie a few clarifying questions to counter what had come up in cross examination. Looking relieved, she was allowed to leave the stand.

“I think we’ll take a recess there,” the judge ruled, and Allie was on her feet and in the aisle almost before she had finished speaking. She looked at Bea, meeting her eyes with an “I’m on it” nod. Bea still looked tense but Allie saw her take a breath which was eloquent of her relief that Debbie’s ordeal was over.

“Deb,” she said, the moment she entered the room the defence was using as an office. Yindi had been sitting with her, speaking kindly to her, but as soon as Debbie saw Allie she flew into her arms and the tears began. Allie held her tightly until her sobs began to abate. “You were wonderful,” she told her, stroking her hair. “You did your mum proud. Could you see how proud she was? And me too, of course.” Debbie nodded and grinned through her tears.

“I’m so glad that’s over. I was so scared …” Her breath shuddered dramatically as the tension began to leave her body.

“I know. But you aced it. And now it’s done with …”

“But Mum’s testimony …”

“Probably not until tomorrow, I should think. Yindi? What do you think?” The young paralegal had been looking over some notes to give them some privacy.

“Yes, tomorrow,” she said, standing up. “We will have Mr Rogers next and then Dr Westfall. That’ll probably take up the rest of the day.”

“Want to grab a coffee before we reconvene Deb?” Allie asked her. The girl nodded enthusiastically.

“And one of those pastries with the cinnamon?” she asked Allie hopefully.

“Defo,” she said with a smile in which she hoped Debbie could read her pride and love. “You’ve earned it kiddo.”

⁂

“Mrs Smith,” Josephine said finally. “Bea,” she glanced at the jury. “You’ve given us your account of what happened that day, the fourth of January, could you please explain a little of why you did what you did and why that day was of particular significance?” Bea swallowed and took a moment to collect herself. They had been over this several times and she had a good idea of the points Josephine wanted her to get across to the jury, but her heart was racing so fast that she knew her voice would come out more shakily than ever. She hesitated. Josephine had said it was better to be slow and deliberate than to say something without thinking, so she took her time. A flash of shining hair caught her eye. It was Allie, leaning forwards, her eyes burning into Bea’s face. It was a look of pure encouragement. It said, you’ve got this, don’t worry, we’re here for you.

“I was married to Harry for a long time. I knew his moods well and, like Dr Westfall said, over the years I became conditioned into accepting his controlling ways and the violent acts he used to put me in my place. But every year, after the first year of our marriage, the fourth of January would be the day I particularly dreaded. Harry always had some special thing planned for the fifth of January … because it’s my birthday, and he would use it as a pretext for some new and terrible treatment. Each year it got worse, until this year, when he was gloating so openly I felt sure that this would be the year he would kill me …”

“Could you tell me what ‘special thing’ your husband did to you on …” Josephine paused whilst she consulted her notes “ … the fifth of January two thousand and one? Your twenty-second birthday ...” Bea stared at her, horrified. They had agreed that she wouldn’t ask about that and that Bea wouldn’t have to speak of it in court. She looked at Debbie, who was frowning, and Allie, who was looking puzzled. It wasn’t that she didn’t want them to know. It was just that she hadn’t told them yet. To hear about this for the first time in court seemed unbearably cruel. She looked at Josephine. She grimaced sympathetically but unapologetically. Bea knew it was her job to do the best for her that she could and that she had judged that this would be a positive influence on the jury.

“He beat me …” she began reluctantly. Josephine nodded at her to go on. Bea glanced at Allie and could see that a special kind of awareness had entered her spine. She knew this was going to be something difficult to hear. “I had found out that I was pregnant …” She watched Debbie’s head come up in shock. _Shit. If only I had told her sooner. This was no way to learn that you might have had a brother or sister._ Allie’s eyes merely widened momentarily and then gleamed brightly, before they turned to Debbie. Bea could see her arm move and knew that she had taken Deb’s hand.

“Did you tell him about your pregnancy?” Josephine asked remorselessly. Bea shook her head.

“I didn’t want to. He was already working himself up to something and I didn’t know what his reaction would be. When my … when our daughter was born he had seemed pleased but … I couldn’t be sure at this point …”

“So what happened?”

“He was hitting the booze pretty heavily and he tried to get me to drink with him. He saw my hesitation and … he worked it out.”

“Was he happy at the news?” Josephine asked. Bea shook her head slowly, playing for time.

“No,” she finally admitted. “He was furious. He said that I must not have been taking my pill, though that wasn’t true …”

“And then what?” Josephine asked. Bea had already told Dr Westfall the whole story and then allowed Josephine full access to her psych file, so she knew she knew exactly what had happened next. Bea pursed her lips stubbornly. Josephine waited her out, pacing up and down, glancing at the jury from time to time. Some of the jury members were shifting in their seats impatiently, others uneasily, as though they suspected what was to come.

“I … He …” She sighed, frustrated with her own inability to just say it. “Luckily Deb … Debbie was only three, nearly four and was already asleep. Harry accused me of trying to make his life more difficult by bringing another child into the family. He grabbed a handful of … of condoms and shook them in my face. He said …” she swallowed heavily. “He said, ‘Looks like I’ll be using these from now on …” Bea’s face flamed and she couldn’t look at the jury even though she knew she was supposed to.

“Then what?” Josephine asked.

“Then he used them,” Bea replied, closing her eyes briefly. She wished she could say it without remembering how it had been.

“The condoms?”

“Y-es.” It came out as a croak. Bea cleared her throat and lifted her chin. “Yes,” she repeated, more clearly.

“To be clear, Bea, did you consent to sex with your husband that day?” Bea shook her head sadly. “Bea?”

“No.”

“How many times did your husband rape you that day?” Josephine continued relentlessly. Bea shook her head.

“I don’t know …” she could hear the thickness in her voice and knew that everyone else would hear it too. _Don’t cry,_ she told herself sternly. _Don’t fucking cry._

“Could you estimate?”

“Until he had used them all,” Bea said, looking at her lap.

“The condoms?”

“Yes.”

“So, he raped you and he kept on raping you until he had used all the condoms?”

"Yes."

"You said earlier that he beat you. Was that after he raped you?"

"During and after," Bea replied, starting to really dislike Josephine, even though she knew that this was like a vile tasting medicine: for her own good.

"Did you seek medical attention after all this?"

"Not straight away. A few days later I booked myself an obstetric ultrasound." Bea could feel herself retreating to a great distance. It was as though she was outside herself looking in. This was better. She could breathe easier and be somewhat dispassionate. 

"Why did you do that?"

"My feelings of morning sickness had disappeared and I was worried about the baby."

"And what did the scan show?"

"That the baby had stopped developing."

"Meaning?"

"That it had died."

"Could the sonographer say why your baby had died?" Josephine asked, almost gently. Bea shook her head, fighting against the tears once more. 

"No. She just said that these things sometimes happen."

"So she didn't say that it was because your husband had beaten you?"

"No."

"Do you think that the reason your baby died was because Harry beat you that day?"

"Objection!" the prosecution lawyer called out. "The accused is not a medical professional."

"Sustained," the judge replied. 

"No more questions,” Josephine said, looking satisfied. Bea glared at her as she sat down. In that moment she focussed every atom of her being on loathing Josephine. How could she have put Debbie and Allie through that with no warning? She poured all of her attention onto Josephine. That way she wouldn’t have to look up and see Debbie and Allie’s stricken faces.

⁂

There was a soft tap on the door. Allie padded over, already in her pyjamas and slouchy socks, and tugged it open.

"Hey."

"Hey," Allie responded in a low tone. "You really didn't need to come over you know," she said quietly, standing to one side to allow Kaz to enter. 

"I think I did," she said, giving Allie a knowing look. "You sounded like shit on the phone. Deb in bed?"

"Yeah," Allie replied and led the way into the lounge room. 

"How's she doing?" Kaz asked. Allie plumped down on the couch and sighed. 

"Reeling."

"You too, huh bub?" Kaz said, settling next to her and giving her leg a quick squeeze.

"Yeah, pretty much," Allie said rubbing her hands over her face and through her hair. "Wanna glass?" she asked, gesturing at a just opened bottle of wine. 

"Sure." Once they were settled with their glasses in hand Kaz began. "So, are you gunna tell me what happened?"

"Bea gave her testimony today and, I thought I was prepared for hearing that shit, but … _fuck_ …" She took a large mouthful of her wine. "She tried to warn me, said I didn't have to sit and listen to it all … but I had no choice because Debbie wouldn't be persuaded …"

“Worse than you’d imagined?”

“I don’t know. I’d imagined some pretty dark stuff … and Bea and Debbie have told me some of it … but just hearing it from Bea’s own lips in the courtroom when she was clearly so reluctant. I think her lawyer ambushed her with some of those questions … to shock the jury maybe …”

“And not just the jury from the sound of it …” Allie shook her head feeling her face begin to crumple as she thought of Debbie.

“Poor Deb …” she managed to choke out before she was abruptly incoherent with tears and Kaz was holding her and rocking her like she had done many times in the past.

⁂

They were all waiting for the verdict. Since the first moment she had been led into the court this morning Bea had been savouring this small window of time before the worst might happen; basking in the almost blinding attention that Allie was giving her from her seat. Was it just because of the importance of the day that Allie’s hair seemed extra shiny, her eyes brighter than ever, her skin more glowing? Perhaps it was just that the deep blue top she was wearing suited her so well. It fetchingly adorned her collarbone and then draped enticingly over the valley between her breasts. Allie suddenly seemed to notice where Bea’s eyes were lingering and smirkingly took a provocatively deeper breath. Bea suppressed a smile.

“Accused please stand,” the court associate said in a firm voice. Bea’s heart leaped with fear and she came to her feet quickly, overcome with an air of unreality. This couldn’t be happening, could it? Was this the moment she found out her fate? She glanced over at Debbie and Allie. Debbie looked tense but Allie smiled at her as though she were confident of the outcome. “Have you reached a verdict?” the associate asked the head juror. Bea faced forwards, locking her knees against a potential shock.

“Yes.”

“Do you find the accused guilty or not guilty of manslaughter?” the associate asked. Bea didn’t want to know. She longed for time to stop or at least slow down enough so that she could prepare herself.

“We find the accused guilty.” Bea thought she heard a collective gasp of indrawn breath before the ringing in her ears muffled it. She sat down heavily, dimly aware that the court proceedings carried on.

“Is this the verdict of you all?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you members of the jury. You are now free to go. Please take the prisoner into custody. Sentencing will take place on Monday.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me!  
> I hope the "edited highlights" approach worked for you. If I had tried to cover the whole trial it would have been way too long and probably rather boring. I have tried to make the trial proceedings convincing - hope I succeeded - but, obviously, I am not a lawyer and reading this chapter is no substitute for good legal advice, should you be planning anything 😉 (although I did do some research, so some of it might even be accurate)!  
> A special mention goes to our valued community member and contributor JustAnotherAnn for pointing out to me some months ago that Bea's birthday is actually 5th January. See - I do listen! In honour of the importance of that information to this chapter Debbie got the middle name Ann.  
> Because this chapter is longer than usual I have not yet made a start on next week's chapter, so don't be too surprised if there is a delay. But I will try to get it out on time. Hitch ❤


	23. "Day of Reckoning"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which crime begets punishment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading and commenting on the previous chapter. I hope you are over it and ready for more.

On Tuesday morning Allie sat in reception and waited to be called in for her visit with Bea. She tried to look at her reflection in the side of the metal detector, but it was too smudged to give much of an impression. It was true that she’d been crying this morning, but that was no reason to _look_ like she had been. Because Allie had one plan and one plan only, and that was to put on as brave a face as she could for Bea. To that end she had bathed her eyes before she left the house, applied make-up that disguised the worst of the redness and puffiness and made sure to wear the distracting blue top that had held Bea’s attention so effectively on Friday. Should she be ashamed of attempting to manipulate her feelings in this way? Allie searched her conscience and could not find a scrap of shame anywhere. She hadn’t liked the look on Bea’s face as she had been led away after her sentencing yesterday. So, for the moment, she was focussing everything on alleviating any tendency Bea might have towards despair. 

⁂

Although it was also true that she and Debbie had felt their own portions of despair since the verdict had been read out on Friday. They had driven home in an almost silent state of shock. Opening the front door, Allie had found that her comfortable and cosy house had lost its charm. She had once or twice indulged in the fantasy of bringing Bea back here straight from court, fresh from a not guilty verdict, and now, to see the couch empty and the lamps unlit, caused a chill shadow to fall over her. But she couldn't afford to give in to her grief, not when Debbie was standing there so vacant and pale.

"Hungry Deb?" It was a question that was usually guaranteed to bring a positive response. She shook her curly head. 

"I think I'm just gunna go to bed," she said flatly. Allie really didn't want Debbie to be on her own, doubted she would sleep, felt sure she would feel better if she would only talk about it or cry.

"How about a hot chocolate?" she suggested, thinking that if she could keep Debbie with her for a few minutes something might come of it. Debbie's eyes flashed. 

"How can you be so calm?" she asked angrily. Allie tried not to show the surprise she felt at that question. Calm, is that how she seemed? She sighed. 

"I'm upset too Deb. I'm sorry if that's not obvious … I guess I'm expecting you to need me … more than I need to express that right now." 

"I can't understand it," Debbie growled. "Didn't they _hear_ what he did to her? Why should she have to stay in that horrible place? It's not fair!"

"It's _not_ fair," Allie agreed, but that only seemed to make Debbie madder.

"We have to do something!" she cried, throwing up her arms in frustration.

"I'm sure Ms Pym's team is on it. They know how to appeal to the court … maybe they can influence the sentence …" She reached out to Debbie, hoping to comfort her with a touch, only to have her hand shaken off roughly as Debbie began to pace up and down. 

"It's not enough! The whole system is against people like us. Mum should be getting a medal or something for surviving Dad and … and … protecting me when she couldn't even protect herself. They should be locking me up too … because … if it hadn't been for me, she wouldn't have …" So that was it, Allie belatedly realised. Debbie was carrying a weight of guilt that she hadn't even suspected. 

"None of this is your fault Debbie. Nobody blames you. Not me, not the court and certainly not your mum," Allie said with certainty, stepping out of her way as Debbie took another abrupt turn around the table. 

"Then she's as stupidly blind as you are!" she yelled, thumping into a chair in her agitation. "Don't you ever get tired of it? Your incessant optimism? Cause it's bloody exhausting to _me_." Allie couldn't help but be pricked by such a personal attack even though she knew that Debbie didn't mean it; would never have said such a thing on a normal day. Allie saw a flash of something in Debbie's eyes, something that might have been regret, but she wouldn't let herself feel it now, instead the girl shoved past her and up the stairs. _Shit_. That could have gone better. But she couldn't chase after her when she clearly needed some time to come to terms with what had happened. 

Some time later Allie discovered that she must have dozed off on the couch because she came to with a pain in her neck, having been awakened by a strange sound. The lounge room where she lay was in darkness, but a tell-tale glow came from the kitchen. Rolling to her feet she edged over to the doorway and peered in. Deb was crouching on the floor, clumsily attempting to brush up the remains of the pot plant that usually sat on the side table by the door. The bottle of wine that Allie and Kaz had started the night before sat in the centre of the kitchen table, now empty, a stained glass at its side.

"What the hell Deb? You know helping yourself to alcohol is not okay," Allie said, her tone fading from anger to dismay as she realised that only part of Debbie's lack of coordination was down to her addled state. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and dotted with particles of compost that had transferred from her hands to her face. The force of her sobs shook her thin shoulders with jerks that were painful to watch. Allie hurried over and took the dustpan and brush out of her hands. "Leave that for now." She gathered Debbie up and helped her onto one of the kitchen chairs. Squatting at her feet with her hands on Debbie's knees she tried to peer through the mass of curls that curtained her face. "Take it from me Deb … getting yourself into this state won't help anything." Allie understood the temptation to blot out your worries with drugs or alcohol all too well. Sometimes she still struggled in the same way. Opening a bottle and only drinking one glass was her way of proving to herself that she was now in control of her impulses, but on more than one occasion over the years she had poured the rest of the bottle away to relieve the nagging knowledge that the wine was sitting there waiting to be drunk. Now she wished she had done so this time.

“I just feel so helpless,” Debbie wailed, tearfully. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“Hm. Well, for now you can drink some water and go to bed. We’ll talk in the morning,” Allie said. Sleeping off the alcohol was the best thing for her tonight.

And in the morning Debbie had been sickly looking and demonstratively contrite.

“I’ll never do that again. What do people see in getting drunk?” she asked plaintively.

“Let’s hope you never get a taste for it,” Allie replied grimly.

“Sorry for drinking your wine,” she mumbled. “I _did_ know it was against the rules. And sorry for what I said about your optimism. It's not annoying really. I usually really … value it," Deb concluded after a pause.

“Yeah, well, I don't mind you shooting your mouth off when you're upset but alcohol is not the answer. Those puddings you like that are in the fridge? Throw them in the bin. And it’ll be all fresh veggies and stuff this week. No pizza or anything.” To an outsider it may have sounded like a ridiculous punishment for a near adult, but Allie had discovered it really worked with Deb. Debbie slunk over to the fridge and disposed of the offending puddings with a sigh. “Do you remember saying last night that you wished you could do something?” Allie asked her more gently.

“Yeah,” Debbie replied warily.

“Well I’m gunna ring Kaz, and if it’s okay with her you can spend the day lending a hand at the shelter. You may not be able to help your mum at the moment, but you can help some other women who have found themselves in a similar position.”

“Ohhh, but Allie … I feel so sick …” she whined.

“Yeah well, you brought that on yourself. Helping someone else will take your mind off it,” Allie replied curtly. The teenager sighed heavily.

“Whatever.”

⁂

“The fuck, Kaz?”

"She wanted to _do_ something!"

"I'm well aware of that,” Allie said, folding her arms over her chest. “That's why I sent her over. But this … Don't you think you should have at least asked me first?"

"There wasn't time. Not if we wanted to make the deadline," Kaz replied with that irritating certainty that was her trademark.

"You let a child be interviewed by a reporter …" Kaz made a disparaging sound. 

"Hardly a _child_ Allie …"

"Yes. _A child_. For several more months. And a child in _my_ care, for that matter," Allie replied angrily. But although her anger was justified, she knew that only part of it was generated by Kaz's behaviour. 

"I don't know why you're so mad," Kaz said, maddeningly. "This could help turn the tide of public opinion towards your girl in time for her sentencing. Judges care about that kind of shit." Allie stepped around the "your girl" trap, knowing Kaz was just attempting to derail her argument. 

"We have no idea what this reporter will write. Whether it'll be beneficial to Bea or not. And Debbie doesn't need any extra hassles. She has exams coming up on top of everything else …" A dreadful thought suddenly struck her. "Please tell me there wasn't a photographer …"

"No. I'm not _crazy_ …" Kaz retorted. Allie just gave her a loaded glare. Infuriatingly Kaz just laughed. "I trust this reporter. She's written about the shelter a couple of times in a really sympathetic way and it always led to an increase in donations." Kaz's eyes sparked triumphantly. She obviously thought she was in the right here and, as Allie knew from experience, nothing was likely to dissuade her. "You'll see. You'll be thanking me," she concluded, giving Allie's upper arms a brisk rub that was presumably meant to be reassuring. Allie somehow doubted that she'd be thanking Kaz for what amounted to interfering, but the damage was done now, so she limited herself to throwing up her hands and sighing dramatically. 

"Want a cuppa while you're here?" she asked, knowing the futility of continuing this conversation, and willing to allow a truce now that she had got her point across.

"Nah, gotta get back. I just wanted to drop Deb off and check how you were doing. How _are_ you doing?" Those ice blue eyes could always cut through her crap and today was no different. 

"I don't even know yet," Allie said, passing a hand wearily across her face.

"Because you feel like you can't take your eye off the ball with Debbie …?"

"Something like that …" Kaz made an impatient sound. "I can't be feeling sorry for myself ... or Bea," Allie insisted, "not when Debbie needs me …"

"But you've got to let yourself _feel it,_ Allie, otherwise you'll give in to a craving or … or burst with the strain." Allie shook her head stubbornly. "It's okay," Kaz said, reaching for her. "Debbie's gone upstairs to avoid finding out exactly how pissed off you are." As soon as Allie allowed her forehead to drop onto Kaz's shoulder, the grief ballooned inside her, rising up her throat in a sob and swelling inside her skull until she really did feel like her head might burst. "Let it out …" Kaz murmured into her ear, gripping her tight. Allie was reminded of days long past when Kaz had said the same thing while she had sweated and screamed and vomited her way to being clean. Now, as then, those words punctured some restraining membrane and purged her of the poison she held inside. 

"Better?" Kaz asked some time later. Allie sniffled and wiped her swollen face.

"Yeah," she said thickly. "Sorry about the mucus," she gestured to Kaz's soaked shoulder. Kaz shrugged. 

"What's a little mucus between friends?"

⁂

Allie didn't think she had ever seen Bea so pale. As she entered the court her eyes automatically sought out Debbie and Allie and then flinched away as though pained. Allie stared at her, hard, attempting to draw her eyes back to them through force of will alone. But Bea was either in a world of her own or was being more than usually stubborn, fixing her gaze on her hands, her lips pursed in apparent concentration. Allie continued to watch her, waiting for a chance to beam her love across the space between them with just a look. 

A ripple of movement caused Allie to twitch nervously, and the judge entered. She was disappointed to find her expression entirely inscrutable. If only she could read on her face what sentence was in store for them. But they would find that out all too soon, she supposed. 

"All rise," the grandfatherly official boomed, and they went through the now familiar rigmarole of standing and sitting, and all the usual formal language that put Allie in mind of a church service as much as a court hearing. As the judge began to speak, Bea's head came up bravely and Allie got a minute opportunity to make eye contact. She made the most of it, focussing everything she had into that single look. She watched as Bea swallowed and shook her hair back from her face. She was ready.

"Beatrice Erin Smith. You have been found guilty by jury verdict of the crime of manslaughter,” the judge began. Allie’s heart hammered frantically. “The evidence I have heard in this courtroom about your ordeal at the hands of your husband has appalled me. The level of violence, sexual assault, coercion and financial control you suffered was severe and beyond what anyone should have to endure. The testimony I have heard about the phenomenon that is known as ‘non-fatal strangulation’ has caused me to pass my concerns on to the Attorney General for consideration, and it is hoped that a new offence will be on the statute book in due course, allowing victims of domestic abuse additional protection." The judge paused and looked around the courtroom. This must be a good sign, Allie thought excitedly. The judge would hardly be saying these things if she planned on giving her the full twenty years that the law allowed. But how low would she go? Allie was mentally prepared for a disappointing eight years. Anything higher than that would surely be a miscarriage of justice. The judge’s eyes finally alighted on Debbie. "And, from the prominent editorial that was published at the weekend, I see that I am not the only one who has been shocked and dismayed by what has happened to you, both without and within the criminal justice system," she said with a wry grimace. "However, I am satisfied that the jury discharged its duty honourably and within the legal framework." The judge paused again, looked around the courtroom and then once again addressed herself to Bea directly. Allie noted how still she stood, waiting for the axe to fall, the only indication of her agitation a slight tremor of her mouth.

"In sentencing, the court takes into account the defendant's previous good character and evident remorse. I am satisfied that you did not act out of a desire for revenge on your husband, but from a genuine fear for your safety and that of your daughter. The court also notes that medical and other professionals missed opportunities to intervene and halt your ordeal. I have also received a plea for leniency from your legal team. This is based upon the desirability of a continued improvement in your psychological state and the undeniable impact of your imprisonment on your daughter. Additionally, I am cognizant of the unlikeliness of your reoffending.” This all sounded very welcome to Allie’s ears and her heart sped up as she began to dare to imagine how lenient the judge might be. “However …” _Oh no._ “... the domestic violence you have suffered may explain your actions but it certainly doesn't excuse them and for that, Mrs Smith, you must face the consequences.” Allie’s heart squeezed painfully at those words. That sounded bad. She reached out for Debbie, not sure if she sought to give reassurance or receive it. “Accordingly,” the judge continued, “for the crime of manslaughter, I sentence you, Beatrice Erin Smith, to two years imprisonment …” a gasp of relief went around the court, none louder than that from Allie’s own lungs. _Thank God,_ she thought fervently. She looked over at Bea. She was still unmoving but for a slight drop of her shoulders as some of the tension left her body. “ ... with the non-parole period of six months. I also strongly recommend, Mrs Smith, that you continue regular counselling sessions with Dr Westfall. Remove the prisoner."

"All stand. This court is now adjourned. "

Allie beamed at Bea as she was led away. She raised her and Debbie’s joined hands in a victorious gesture but Bea’s returning look was blank and devoid of recognition. _She must be in shock._ Allie looked at Debbie. The girl looked relieved but not exactly jubilant.

“That’s good Deb, no?” she said, scooping her into a hug.

“Yeah, I guess. It could have been a lot worse but …” She looked at her feet. “I suppose I still hoped that they might let her go. You know … time served …”

“But she’s already done seven months, so that’s what,” She did a quick calculation. “ … seventeen months left. That’s not so bad. And what does that parole thing mean?”

“I dunno. Six months from now? Or six months from when she first went to prison?”

“Let’s find Ms Pym,” Allie said, looking around wildly. “She’ll know … She could be eligible for parole already …” Allie took a deep breath and tried to calm down for Debbie’s sake. Seventeen months. Maybe less. It would be hard but they could do that … couldn’t they?

⁂

Allie idly watched visitors coming and going, collecting their belongings, some smiling, others with creased brows and dragging steps. Remembering Bea’s blank look Allie was worried about her state of mind. At the moment that the judge read out the sentence she had assumed that Bea felt relief, knowing that she had prepared herself for as much as twenty years. But what if she now felt that she couldn’t do the time? It was one thing to live in fear and hope, as she had done for the last seven months, but knowing the outcome had to feel different. Or maybe not. There was still a whole lot of uncertainty. Ms Pym was planning an appeal which she hoped would chip away at those months. And there was the chance of parole too, if Bea could continue to keep her record clean. But Allie’s job for today was clear to her: to raise her spirits, to give her hope, to let her know that she was still here, still waiting. Always waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't sure if I would manage to get this ready in time, but here we are. I hope you liked it - as usual, please leave a comment if you can ⬇️


	24. "The Door Without a Key"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which despair is felt but determination dominates.

Bea couldn't shake it off. Usually there was nothing like the promise of a visit from Allie to put her in a good mood, but today she just couldn't bring herself to look forward to it. She had thought about cancelling but that would hardly be fair and Allie deserved to get the news face to face. Allie had done nothing wrong. In fact she had been perfect: supportive, upbeat and always present on the edge of her field of vision. She had been there every day in court, always looking out for Debbie but also seeming to track Bea's wellbeing with some special sense that she'd developed for just that purpose. And her letters. How had she found the time?

⁂

_Dear Bea,_

_So today was day one of your trial. It would be inappropriate to say I enjoyed it, but sitting across a room from you all day was amazing. Usually I only get to look at you for an hour at a time, but today it was hours of just looking. Well, that makes it sound as if I wasn't paying attention and was just perving on you all day. Luckily I can multitask with the best of them - I can perv and listen at the same time._

_Thank you for wearing the blouse I chose for you. I must have excellent taste because the colour and fit were just right. God, I love the way you look. You have no idea how good it feels just to rest my eyes on you. All those people in their robes and uniforms - none of them are a patch on you. I never want you to feel intimidated in the court. You have lived through things that they can't imagine, but soon you will get your chance to explain how it was …_

⁂

Her return to Wentworth on Friday had held an air of unreality. How much longer, she wondered despairingly, would she have to look at these enclosing walls, these locked doors? The unit was deserted; the others were all at work. Back in her cell, she mechanically changed out of her court outfit and back into her prison uniform. Why had she let herself believe that the verdict could be anything other than guilty? The worst of it was that the jury was not wrong. She had killed Harry. But had none of the things that they had heard persuaded them that she had had to do it? Or that Harry had deserved it? _What will happen?_ her mind demanded on a loop. _What will happen to Debbie if I spend most of my life in here?_ Her thoughts turned to Allie and then back to Debbie. Allie, Debbie, Allie, Debbie, like a pendulum swinging from one to the other.

How long she had been sitting mindlessly on her bunk like a wound down mechanism she didn't know, but a hubbub of voices and the squeak of shoes let her know that the others had returned. The door of her cell was pushed back and Franky's face came into view. Franky didn't need to ask what the verdict was, her face instantly falling, but whether her knowledge came from Bea's dejected manner or just from the fact that she was back in her cell, Bea couldn't tell. And for once she didn't make a joke of it. She simply sat down beside her and wound one of her skinny arms around her neck to bring her close.

"It's all down to the sentence now, Red …" she said quietly. "What do you feel like you could take?" Bea shook her head and peeled herself away to stand and look at the photos on her wall. "Shall I tell you what _I_ did?" When Bea didn't reply, she carried on anyway. "I started small. Six months, I thought. I could do six months. Then I forced myself to imagine a year. That was the hardest part. After that I just kept adding a year. I made it to four before my sentencing …"

"But they gave you _seven,_ " Bea reminded her impatiently. Franky grinned. 

"Yeah, that was a kick in the arse. Better not listen to me, eh? What do I know?" Bea smiled despite herself and shook her head. There was no reason why that should have made her feel better, but it had. A tiny bit. "But you know who you should listen to? Gidge. She'll have a perspective on this. And your shit-hot lawyer. I bet she's already found an angle to play …"

"Yeah …" Bea said faintly. 

"So what _are_ you prepared for?" Franky asked. Bea already had an answer to that question but the number stuck in her throat. Franky didn't seem to mind. "Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll be out of here before me and enjoying some private time with Blondie …" Bea rolled her eyes.

" _Franky_ …" she protested. Always, she always had to wind her up.

"Kettle's on," she heard Liz’s post work call, like clockwork. They could always depend on Lizzie. "Want a cuppa Bea? Franky?"

"Coming …" Franky called back. She stood up and gestured towards the door. "You can't hide in here all day." Bea steeled herself to face the humiliation of the verdict and the disappointment of her friends, but when she stepped out into the communal area all she got was a chorus of greetings and a squeeze on the arm from Maxine. If anyone understood how she felt it was this bunch of wonderful misfits. 

⁂

_Dear Bea,_

_Could you believe that bozo they dug up from Harry's workplace? The prosecution must really be scraping the barrel if that's the best they can come up with. "Harry was a great guy. A hard worker. He had traditional views about marriage." Shit. When he said that, all my alarms started going off. I don't think that the jury will have too much trouble interpreting what "traditional" is a euphemism for._

_You looked especially radiant today. I was glad to see you looking so lovely. I thought you might have had trouble sleeping, but you looked well rested; more like you had spent the evening at an expensive spa than in a prison. What do you think would happen if I just stood up and walked over to you while one of the more boring witnesses testified? I could sit nearby and just hold your hand. It would be well worth whatever contempt of court thing they would probably slap me with …_

⁂

"The governor said that you wanted to see me, Bea. Is this about your verdict?" Not strictly true, but she would, of course, like to ask what the doctor thought of her verdict and her chances of a short sentence. She was reluctant to open with that, however, afraid that she would sound like a petulant child.

"I wanted to … to thank you for what you said at my trial. I felt like you made it really clear to the jury how Harry had got worse over time …" Bea began hesitantly.

"You don't need to thank me, Bea. I was doing my job and just told the absolute, clinical truth.” And she proceeded to tell it again, as though she thought that Bea might still need reminding that she wasn’t some kind of freak and that what had happened to her had happened to many other women. “That you didn’t set out to become a victim. That the process of control is like a gradual erosion that wears down a woman’s self. That if you hadn't have killed Harry or left him, he would almost certainly have killed _you._ And, most importantly, that being caught in an abusive relationship could happen to pretty much anyone. Sometimes jury members seem to think that they would have behaved differently to the women they see in court, but they really wouldn't have."

"You made a good case for why I didn't leave, but I'm still not sure they got it …"

"I know. It's the hardest thing,” Dr Westfall interrupted, gesturing passionately with her hands. “I’ve come up against this before. To try to explain to a jury why a victim stays with her abuser. If a person hasn't experienced it, the debilitating fear is hard for them to understand." Bea could see that this was a frustration to her and was once again grateful that she had such a dedicated professional to speak for her.

"Even though you told them that women rarely leave without outside help,” Bea continued, “and all the practical stuff like having nowhere to go and no money. Like him taking my phone and selling my car … I guess they still thought I should have just walked away." The psychologist compressed her lips and didn’t answer that directly.

"You know, I feel like the judge took notice,” she said confidently. “She's in control of your sentence, and I'd be very surprised if she was harsh with you."

"So … What do you think? How long will I get?" Dr Westfall shook her head. 

"I can't say. These things are impossible to be precise about." She studied Bea silently for a moment. "What is it that you're afraid of Bea?"

"I'm afraid of being stuck in here for _twenty years,_ obviously," Bea bit back angrily. But of course Dr Westfall could not be provoked so easily. 

"So, you're worried that you'd struggle to handle being here for an extended period," the psychologist said slowly and clearly. Something about the way she said it made Bea stop and think about what was worst about a long sentence. There were plenty of bad things about prison: the constant danger, the terrible food, the endless percussion of slamming doors, the lack of any kind of horizon. But there was only one thing that really troubled her, and that was being cut off from Debbie and Allie.

"I guess I'm worried that Debbie will have to do without me for too long." She closed her eyes on the next thought but found the courage to speak it anyway. "Maybe ... that she'll discover that she _can_ do without me. And I'll be left behind and forgotten about." Only it wasn't really Debbie that she expected to leave her behind and forget her, it was Allie. And the thought pained her even as summoned up the determination to see it through. Dr Westfall was nodding thoughtfully. 

"But if you got a short sentence, would all your worries disappear?" she asked with the cocked eyebrow that Bea was coming to recognise. 

"I guess not," she replied wryly. "There's always something to worry about. If I was getting out I suppose I'd be worrying about money, about getting a job ..." Dr Westfall smiled. 

"So you can recognise that _catastrophizing_ , always assuming the worst will happen, may not be helpful?" Bea nodded at her lap. "And that all eventualities come with their own challenges, even the so-called 'good' ones?"

"Yeah … " Bea admitted.

"So, what other ways might there be to deal with unknown eventualities?" Dr Westfall asked. Bea shrugged but she was remembering something that Allie had said. 

"Make a plan, maybe?" No, that wasn't right. 

"Making a plan can help alleviate fear," Dr Westfall said cautiously. "But with the unknown, sometimes events don't fit with the plan we've made. Sometimes we might need to ad lib a bit," she smiled kindly. "And that can be scary."

"So you're saying I need to be flexible?" Bea asked.

"If you _can_ be, that might allow you the best chance of dealing with what life throws at you. But that doesn't mean you should just accept whatever happens. If your sentence is not what you hope for then there is the appeal process to consider." Bea nodded again. 

"So I can plan but be prepared to adjust my plan …"

"Exactly."

"It's a process not a finished work …" Bea blurted out before she could censor herself. The doctor grinned at her.

"Ah, you won't need me for much longer," she said in a mock pitiful tone. Bea smiled and blushed at the suggestion of praise. 

"I doubt that."

⁂

_Dear Bea,_

_What a dick that guy Rogers was! Sure, he could testify that your injuries were consistent with being hit with a pan. But when Ms Pym suggested that he had heard what Debbie had said he denied it. Just covering his arse! He looked so shifty. The jury must surely have noticed that. I know the judge did because she looked like she’d just stepped in something. I’m a hundred percent sure he was lying about not having heard Debbie and not suspecting domestic abuse at the time. Do these people never look at their patient’s medical records? It makes me so mad._

_Dr Westfall was by far the better witness - so cool and collected. Whoo-ee! I hope you’re able to resist her charms during your sessions. What really struck me was her empathy. She did all the clinical talk perfectly but you could tell just by looking at her eyes how much sympathy she feels for you. Not just for you, I’m sure, but for all her patients. I don’t think we’ll ever be able to thank her enough for how much she’s helped you. I’d love to send her flowers to say thank you. But, that’d be weird, right …?_

⁂

Mr Jackson opened the office door.

“Smith to see you Governor,” he said.

“Ah yes,” Miss Davidson said with a smile. “Come in, Bea. Sit down.” Bea hastily lowered herself onto the seat, wondering what she could possibly want with her. “I heard about your verdict,” she said, dropping the smile and looking serious. “I’m sorry. You were probably hoping for something better.” Bea shrugged, not knowing what to say. “I just wanted to see how you were handling it and to strongly recommend that you see Dr Westfall this afternoon …”

“I’m fine,” Bea replied reflexively.

“Nevertheless, I’d prefer it if you saw her,” she continued firmly, and Bea understood that this was not a suggestion, so she nodded. “You’ve got a reasonable record here, so far, Bea. I don’t want this verdict to set you back or make you do something rash.” Bea swallowed and forced herself to meet the woman’s eyes.

“Of course not, Governor …”

“Sometimes it’s easy to despair …” Miss Davidson carried on talking but Bea was hardly listening. It _was_ easy to despair. She had long ago decided that if she was found guilty and if she received more than … _the number,_ the one she preferred not to think about, then she would have to tell Allie that she should move on with her life. It was a horrifying prospect as it would destroy the only lovely thing to have happened to her since Debbie was born. Before this guilty verdict she had occasionally allowed herself to hope that she would be released and be out before Allie's birthday. That she would spend the day making Allie feel as special as Bea knew her to be. That dream was crushed now. A beautiful girl like Allie should not spend her twenty-eighth birthday alone wishing that her girlfriend was not serving time for manslaughter. _Girlfriend._ Christ, that sounded ridiculous. Who was she kidding? How could someone of her age and background imagine herself as anyone's girlfriend? Let alone someone like Allie. 

“ … the women look up to you, Bea,” Miss Davidson was saying when her attention drifted back to the governor’s monologue. “I hope that will continue to be the case …?”

“I hope so too,” Bea replied with a hard swallow. Somehow she had to find the determination to be that person, the one that people looked up to, the one that was capable of putting other people first.

⁂

_Dear Bea,_

_Oh, my love. I wish I was with you right now. I wish I could have heard that whole story about the baby and everything, just the two of us together, when you felt ready to tell me. I wish I could hold you and show you that none of it changes the way I feel about you. And by God, I wish none of it had happened._

_But Debbie’s fine. It was a shock, for sure, and I know you didn’t mean for her to find it out like that. She’s going to be fine. We all are._

_It’s late and today really took it out of me. I’m going to bundle up all these letters and take them out to the post box in the hope that they'll reach you soon and bring you some comfort. Tomorrow is a big day but I know that you will meet it bravely, head on, like you do. And I want you to remember: even if everything changes,_ _nothing_ _changes. I hope you understand._

_All my love, Allie._

⁂

She had done her best to meet her sentence bravely; to live up to the expectations from the Governor and Allie; to make her daughter proud of her. But it was too much. It was too long. And now she felt bad for not being more grateful. By most people’s standards the sentence given by the judge was generosity itself; its brevity eloquent of the sympathy that the trial had aroused. But Bea knew it to be too long. Months ago she had set it in her mind as a fixed point. That if she was given more than one year, that that would be the sign that she had to let Allie go. _One year._ It was just a number, but one year was more than enough time for a young woman like Allie to wait around and Bea couldn’t do it to her.

A gate clanged somewhere nearby and Bea flinched. She leaned against her cell door, pushing it closed with her body and sighed heavily. Soon an officer would come and collect her for her visit and she would have to find the determination within herself to tell Allie not to come again. Her eyes fell on her shower kit lying by the sink where she had left it earlier. Pushing off from the wall she unzipped the case and found the disposable razor. She glanced at the closed door. She had just enough time and privacy for one last thing. The one thing that might make her feel tough enough to be who she needed to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your helpful and kind responses to the previous chapter. To see that people are reading and still liking it enough to stick with it keeps me motivated. I'm aware that this may not be the chapter you were looking for, but next week they'll be together again for another visit. And I'll pick up the pace soon, probably. Hitch ❤


	25. "An Unlocked Window"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a whiff of truth disperses the effect of some dubious calculations.

_Uh oh._ Something was going on with Bea. Allie could tell that in the first half of the first second that she came into view. There was something off with her stance. Her shoulders were subtly rounded, her spine minutely less straight than usual. And, once their eyes met, Allie's heart reacted to Bea's furtive, liquid glance with a painful contraction. _What was going on in that head of hers?_ This must be about what had come out in the courtroom, although she had thought she had made clear her feelings about that in her letter. Maybe Bea hadn't got that letter, maybe she had misunderstood, maybe she hadn't been as clear as she had thought. _Stop it,_ she told herself. _You can just ask her in a minute._

Feeling a mite more relaxed, she crossed the room and initiated the completely innocent 'just friends' hug they had perfected during the past few months. It was only completely innocent to a casual viewer, however, because Allie always managed to put a little extra something into it just for Bea; a finger drawn along her bottom rib to make her quiver, a hot breath against her throat. Once, memorably, a thumb against the inside of her hip that caused Bea to emit a cheep of surprise. But today Bea was stiff in her arms and would have drawn away after the first instant if she could have. Allie frowned to herself. _No way._ Not after everything they had both been through since their last visit. She clung on tightly and Bea couldn't exactly do anything about it without starting a humiliating, physical struggle. After a moment she relaxed a little, allowing Allie her heartbeat's worth of comfort. When Bea made a quiet sound of protest Allie reluctantly drew back and looked into her face. Once again Bea's eyes glittered before skittering nervously away. Allie smiled at her. _We'll soon get this straightened out,_ she thought.

She had just sat down with the table between them when Bea lifted her arms to adjust her hair and, with a start, Allie noticed. _What the hell had she done to herself?_

⁂

Bea’s resolution almost failed in the first second. Allie looked so utterly beautiful and so pleased to see her that she thought her heart might crumble. But then a shadow passed briefly across her face. _She’s remembering,_ she thought. _She’s remembering that I’m stuck in here._ And for the first time ever, when Allie smiled at her, Bea wondered if she meant it. It looked genuine but maybe she was just covering up her shock and disappointment. Or maybe, when Bea told her, she would be relieved rather than feel a debilitating hopelessness like the one that was currently pushing against the back of Bea's own eyes, making them water.

When Allie hugged her all she could think about was how wrong it was to crave this, and how wrong it was to allow it to continue when at any moment she would be telling Allie that this visit would be their last. But Allie was not letting go and Bea had rarely come up against her resolve before. A brief strain to back away told her that she might as well submit and, honestly, it was a relief to let herself be held. But when the memory of their few minutes together in medical came, unbidden, into her mind, the tears welled up suddenly and she had to choke them back with an ugly and embarrassing sound. Allie looked at her then and smiled that brilliant smile as though she was neither disgusting nor weird. She would miss that, Bea thought, as she sat down. She would miss the way that Allie always looked at her as though she was as well-adjusted and worthy of attention as a normal person.

When next Bea looked at her face, after a heated glance or two at the way her figure was complemented by that blue top of hers, Allie’s eyebrows were drawn up so high that her expression was cartoonishly shocked. Bea must have looked quizzical because Allie gestured towards her.

“Your hair,” she gasped.

“Oh, yeah,” Bea growled, remembering. “Do you hate it?” she asked hopefully. Allie shook her head, looking more amused than surprised now.

“No … let me see it …” The avidity in Allie’s gaze made coals kindle in the pit of Bea’s belly. Powerless to remove her eyes from Allie’s face, she lifted both of her arms and pulled her hair onto the back of her head until, with the elastic she was wearing on one of her wrists, she could secure it in a pony-tail. Then she turned her head slightly to one side so that Allie would be able to see the undercut properly. The gleam in Allie’s eyes, the tug of her lips into an irrepressible smile and the unprecedented blush high on her cheeks made Bea reconsider what she had done. This restyle was supposed to point out to everyone, Allie included, who she was now: Bea Smith, the convicted killer, the badass crew member, the long-stay inmate. It wasn’t supposed to make Allie reach out to brush a shaved side with her finger-tips and blush until her cheeks were as rosy and burnished as a pair of pomegranates.

“I love it.”

⁂

What she had done was to make herself even sexier, something that Allie would have found impossible to believe only minutes before. The shorter hair was unbelievably soft under her fingers and the way it framed her dainty ears spoke to Allie of a tenderness and vulnerability that she longed to explore. But at the same time the partially shaved head suggested severity; the grit inside the oyster. It accentuated the sharpness of Bea’s jaw and, together with the sleeveless t-shirt and strong, slim arms, spoke of the ferocity that Allie knew Bea to possess. Combined, these elements promised everything: sweetness and passion; sensitivity and fervency. Shit, she really was the whole package, and Allie couldn’t wait to get her out of here and into her bed.

“I love it,” Allie told her, brushing her fingers back and forth through those short hairs, unable to get enough of the sensation. Bea looked uneasily around the room, no doubt wondering if they were being observed, and then grabbed Allie’s wrist. 

“Stop it,” she hissed, giving her a warning look.

“Sorry,” Allie whispered automatically, though she doubted she looked sorry, and drew her hand back into her lap. She knew Bea hated it when she did something that might draw attention to them in front of the other inmates, but really, what did she expect? If this sexy hairstyle wasn’t to get her going, what was it for? “You look amazing,” she said quietly. Bea’s eyes filled with tears, her lips pursed and she looked away. Allie knew that Bea was terrible at receiving compliments, but really, this was ridiculous. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Why was Bea so upset? She might have been a tiny bit inappropriate, but nothing worse than usual.

⁂

 _This was a mistake,_ Bea was thinking. _I should either have left my hair alone or shaved my whole head._ But would even that have been enough to put Allie off? _Never mind,_ she told herself. The words of dismissal would have to suffice.

“Did you get my letters?” Allie asked, a tiny line appearing between her brows.

“Yeah,” Bea replied softly, relenting a little despite herself. She hated to see Allie worried. “Thanks, I … I enjoyed them,” she added truthfully, because reading Allie’s day-to-day reactions to the trial had helped her make sense of it herself. Allie’s face immediately smoothed.

“So you read what I wrote,” she said, reaching out for Bea’s hand. Bea knew she should draw away but to do so would make that frown return, so she allowed her hand to rest in Allie’s. “And you know that everything that I learned in court, about what Harry did to you, makes no difference to me. So you can relax, babe. You don’t need to protect yourself from me. I’m not going anywhere.” _Shit,_ Bea thought with an internal groan. That was exactly the last thing she wanted to hear right now. Allie clearly assumed that Bea was afraid that all those details about the rapes and the violence had been too much for her. If only they were. But Bea knew Allie’s past, knew she had experienced some tough things herself and, moreover, had watched the courage and resolution settle across her face during her testimony. She knew Allie could take it, take her past, even swallow the extra time; the question was, _should_ she?

Allie had been watching Bea’s face closely whilst she thought and seemed to recognise that she was on the wrong track. “It’s Debbie then,” she tried. “You’re worried about seeing her on Thursday and what she might ask you …” Bea gave a half shrug. It was true that concerns about how that visit might go had been pestering her ever since she had testified to events that she had kept from Debbie.

“She might give me a hard time, but …” Bea began.

“You know, I’m not sure she will. She doesn’t blame you for what happened and, with only a moment’s thought, she’s gunna realise why you didn’t tell her that stuff. She was too young before …” Bea held up her hand to stop her flow.

“It’s fine, Allie. Debbie and I will sort it out on Thursday,” Bea said with finality. 

“Oh. Well, yeah. Obviously …” She sighed. “Sorry, I shouldn’t try to butt in between the two of you …” she began, looking discomfited. Bea smiled.

“No, it’s fine. I rely on you to butt in. You’re seeing a lot more of her than I am and have a better idea how she’s feeling.”

“She did get upset,” Allie admitted. “Especially the day of the verdict. But she wants to tell you about that herself …” Bea nodded. She sat up straighter and released Allie’s hand which, miraculously, she relinquished without a struggle, only with a slightly panicked look. They could sit here for the whole hour and talk about Debbie or any number of other things, but Bea had to tell Allie what she had decided and she had to do it now. She clearly knew that something was troubling her, and making her wonder what it was wasn’t fair.

⁂

 _I need to stop guessing and wait for her to tell me,_ Allie decided. If it wasn’t about the abuse and it wasn’t about Debbie, she was all out of ideas. Bea sat up straight. Here it came. Was it Jacs Holt? Allie had time to wonder as her mind suddenly spun a few more panicky scenarios. Maybe Bea was being transferred to some prison miles away. Maybe she was ill …

“So, do you remember what I said about not wanting you to wait around for me if I got a long sentence?” Bea finally asked, carefully. _What? What did that have to do with anything?_

“Sure,” she replied uneasily. “But we really lucked out with the sentencing …” Bea was shaking her head slowly and refusing to look at her. “Why are you shaking your head? Stop shaking your head,” Allie demanded, dread blooming in her stomach.

“It’s too long, Allie …” Bea said sadly, meeting her eyes briefly. _No, no, no …_ Allie’s brain rebelled at the idea. This couldn’t be the brush off that it sounded.

“It’s a few months,” she returned with all of the dismissiveness she could summon. “It’s the blink of an eye …”

“It’s two years,” Bea insisted.

“It might have been twenty,” Allie countered, smilingly. “ _Then_ we would have had something to discuss.”

“It’s no joke, Allie …” Bea replied tartly.

“Babe,” Allie said, with an ease that she did not feel. “You’ve already done seven months, so seventeen more is the absolute max you’ll do. Besides which, did you not hear that your non-parole period is only six months? You can start the parole process straightaway. Plus, there’ll be an appeal, I assume?” Bea frowned.

“But the appeal will take ages and … you have _no idea_ what the parole process is like. It’s paperwork, interviews, all kinds of hoops. Plus, it takes forever …”

“Not _forever_ ,” Allie stressed. “Because, like I said before, seventeen months and you’re out of here whatever happens with the appeal or parole.” Allie was deliberately keeping her tone bright and sunny. She had only ever visited prison, never been incarcerated herself, so she couldn’t really say how it would feel to face that stretch of time. Was there any such thing as ‘easy time’? Allie didn't know, but she was going to do her damnedest to persuade Bea that these seventeen months would be a breeze.

“But I already decided,” Bea growled.

“What do you mean?” Allie asked, dreading the answer.

“I decided that if I got more than one year then … we would have to give this up,” she said with finality.

⁂

Allie actually laughed.

“You decided?” she asked with a raised brow and a note of incredulity. Bea nodded, beginning to become annoyed by Allie’s apparent levity. 

“Yes. Months ago. You’re too young to be hanging around waiting for me.”

“And do I get a say in this decision?” Allie asked. And although Bea could hear the mocking tone in her voice she didn’t like the hint of steel that lay beneath it.

“You’re too generous, Allie,” Bea told her earnestly. “I know you. You would say you were fine with it and keep on visiting even when you knew it was too long.” Allie had no reply to that. Maybe she was getting through to her.

"And how did you come up with it?" she asked. She was smiling, but not in any way that Bea recognised. 

"Huh?"

"How did you come up with the number one? _One_ year _._ Why not _ten_ years. Or ten months. Or any other number?" Bea didn't know how to answer that. She had had a thought process, at the time, and it had the outcome _one_. But now she was struggling to remember exactly how it went. It had started with Allie's birthday … "Because you know it's entirely arbitrary, that number, don't you, babe?"

"No …" Bea started to reply.

"It seems to me that you could just as easily have hit on the number two and we wouldn't be having this conversation now," she said in a reasonable tone. 

"It's because of your birthday …" Bea blurted. There was a stunned silence.

"My birthday? What’s that got to do with it?"

"I was thinking that if I was found not guilty, I would be out for your twenty-eighth. And I could take you out … on a … a date.” Bea blushed at this and, even though Allie was infuriated with her, she couldn’t help but find her shyness charming. “But then I wondered what would happen if I was found guilty. So I decided on one year so that I would only miss one birthday … D'ya see?" Bea said pleadingly. Allie groaned and dropped her head onto her folded arms. "I can't ask you to put your life on hold while you wait for me," Bea explained. Allie's shoulders were shaking. "Don't cry Allie, please. It's for the best."

⁂

Allie raised her head. She might be slightly hysterical but she was certainly not crying. Bea looked affronted to find her laughing not weeping. 

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I don’t mean to laugh at you, but you can't break up with me because you don't want to miss my birthday. It's ridiculous." Bea glared at her. She was looking seriously annoyed, her lips pursed in frustration. _Is this how it would be every time they had a disagreement?_ That thought warmed Allie, gave her the confidence to believe that there would be other days and other disagreements.

"It's not just about that …" Bea was saying doggedly, attempting to stamp her authority on the conversation.

"And I hear what you're saying, but I just can't take this seriously. Did you really think you could just say 'It's over' and that's it? That you could just … disregard my opinion and feelings?” Bea was shaking her head and trying to get a word in but Allie had the momentum on her side. “Maybe maths was never my strongest subject but did you think you could just come up with all these numbers, one, seven, seventeen, twenty-eight … and I would just agree to whatever you said?" Bea stared at her, perplexed, her mouth working. "Besides,” Allie continued, calming a little. “You left one important quantity out of your calculations.”

⁂

She had gone silent and was looking supremely smug. Bea was afraid to ask what this imaginary number of hers might be. This wasn’t supposed to even be a discussion, never mind the aggressive negotiation it had turned into. But Allie was right, she had seriously underestimated her and had expected her to agree, not only that they should separate, but on the fact that it was Bea’s decision to make. Now Allie had made it clear that she thought she had as much at stake here as Bea herself and Bea could not seem to find a counter argument to that. She sighed.

“Go on then. Enlighten me.” Bea instantly regretted her dismissive tone as Allie’s smugness slid away. But she wasn’t upset. Her expression had gentled until it became almost unbearably tender. Bea’s eyes smarted with incipient tears and, whilst she blinked away those proofs of susceptibility, Allie took the opportunity to take both of her hands in hers and lean across the table.

“How much I love you.” It was said quietly and with a simplicity and sincerity that dissolved Bea’s resolve so completely that it was as if it had never existed. And although she gaped and her tears spilled down her face so that the salt pricked sharply at her skin, Bea was lost inside one thought. _I knew that, didn’t I?_ It had been implicit in everything that Allie had said and done since the first time they had met, but somehow she had got so caught up in doing the right thing, committing herself to self-denial, that she had conveniently buried that knowledge. Allie surreptitiously wiped Bea’s tears from her face, satisfied now that she had played the trump card. “And it’s a fucking big number,” she said, exaggeratedly wide-eyed. “If it’s not infinity then it’s somewhere close.” And she smiled hugely. The smile Bea was powerless against. Bea gave a returning smile, somewhat tremulous, but it allowed her to draw the first deep breath she had taken for a long time. “And if that doesn’t unbalance your crazy equation I don’t know what will,” Allie added. She paused, her smile fading, looking a little teary herself, and, waggling their joined hands for emphasis, said it again. “I love you, Bea. And I have from almost the first moment I saw you.” She glanced around the room. “This declaration probably deserved a more romantic setting than a prison visiting room,” she admitted, as though she had only just noticed where they were, “but it’ll have to do. And in seventeen months … or sooner … I can say it somewhere more fitting.”

Bea wished they were somewhere else as well, so that she could give full vent to her relieved tears. Her heart raced with the knowledge: Allie loved her and wasn’t about to let her go, not even when she foolishly insisted on it. She wished they were alone so that she could give in to her sudden absurd impulse to settle herself in Allie’s lap and allow herself to be held as close as it was possible to be held. She wanted to speak, to tell Allie how much it meant to hear those words, to try and put her own feelings into words, but all she seemed capable of was breathing and crying as unobtrusively as possible. So she settled for squeezing Allie’s hands in what she hoped was a meaningful way. Allie smiled at her and seemed to understand her continued silence.

“So … I take it we can forget all about this breaking up business and get back to where we’re supposed to be? Because all your calculations mean shit in comparison with what we have,” she said, dazzling Bea once again with her provoking smile and glittering eyes. Bea’s heart hammered unhealthily and her breath caught in her throat. More relieved than she could say, she accepted Allie’s solution wholeheartedly with a thankful nod.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a whole moan and apology here but I have deleted it so I don't sound quite so self pitying! The problem in a nutshell: in my head Allie's declaration of love had much more of an impact. I have been unable to fix it, so, if you have a way to improve that (without a total rewrite!) please leave a note below.
> 
> Thanks, Hitch ❤


	26. “Pen Pal” Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroines write some more letters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I hope you are all well. Thanks for continuing to read this story. Here's the next chapter.

**Wed 6/08/14**

**Dear Allie,**

**I'm such a bloody idiot. I thought I was doing the right thing and that I could make things easier for you by letting you go. But in doing that I made it seem that your feelings were something that could just be put aside. Clearly they are not and I'm so glad and grateful for that fact. Honestly, it's a relief for me that I don't have to try and pretend that I could have gone without seeing you for even two weeks at a time, never mind gone without seeing you full stop. I was trying to do the unselfish thing, to put aside my own feelings and do what was best for you. But I only ended up being more selfish than ever. I hope you can forgive me …**

⁂

_Saturday 9th August 2014_

_Dear Bea,_

_I know what you were trying to do and I understand why. I suppose I assumed you had noticed that I had fallen for you, but I guess I hadn't factored in the thickness of your skull when it comes to romantic matters. I know, hardly your fault, but I've been pretty much throwing myself at you since the beginning and so I didn't take that whole 'long sentence' thing as seriously as I should have. Still, on the plus side, you came out of it with an extremely sexy haircut which has already provided me with lots of steamy thoughts to warm my lonely evenings …_

⁂

**Tue 12/08/14**

**... might say your reaction to my new haircut was unexpected. At the time I hoped it would look so extreme that you would be put off. But at least amongst the women it seems to be having the desired effect - the crazies are giving me a slightly wider berth than usual. But you, I don't know, you saw past it or saw something in it that I don't understand. And when you touched it and looked at me the way you did I know I liked it. Yes, I’m blushing as I write this, but you already knew that ...**

**… Josephine is taking my appeal forwards as a matter of principle, but she says not to get my hopes up. Nothing might come of it. And I'm on the parole bandwagon now. More sessions with the doc, a course to complete (anger management, imagine that!) and some stuff that's supposed to prepare me for "life on the outside". So there are the hoops and here's me jumping and only asking "how high?" But if it gets me out sooner it will have been worth it.**

**Kim's back, so that's a shame. She's not on our block but Franky won't have anything to do with her anyway, as promised. I don't know what went wrong and I can't imagine what it must feel like to get out of here only to be sent back. That won't be me, I promise you ...**

⁂

_Friday 15th August 2014_

_… Debbie was unusually quiet after your visit yesterday. Did she seem okay to you? Did you talk about anything I should know about? Perhaps I'm imagining it. She's been studying hard so maybe she's just tired._

_Did you hear about that vigilante group on the news? Seems some scumbag beat up his girlfriend but got off scot free. This group of women, calling themselves "The Avengers", caught up with him and gave him a taste of his own medicine. Poetic justice I guess._

_I miss you babe. Why isn't it Monday yet? Listen to me … I sound like a whiny child, but that hour each week is all I can think about most days. That too short hour when I can touch you and look at you. I drink my fill and wish it would last me until the next time, but it never does. I don't think I'll ever be satisfied until I can be with you every day. So keep jumping! I plan to make it well worth your while …_

⁂

**Tue 19/08/14**

**… Debbie wanted to talk about some stuff that went on with her dad. Outwardly she seems okay with most of it. She says she is talking to her therapist about it but, I don’t know, it seems like stuff a kid shouldn’t have to know about her parents. The thing she was most interested in talking to me about was the baby that never was. What might his or her name have been, did I ever want to get pregnant again after that? I think she is trying to imagine an alternate universe where she has a younger brother or sister. Maybe a universe where she didn’t have to be the only child in that house, or where she would have someone she could protect. God, do you think she thinks that she should have been able to protect me? What a mind-fuck that would be ...**

**… you mentioned that you wanted to send me in some books so I asked around. You should forget about it, sweetheart, because from what everyone says, the prison makes it so difficult you might as well not bother. There are all sorts of rules. They have to be paperback, new, and you can't send them yourself, they have to come from a bookshop direct, with the right paperwork. And the subject matter has to pass some kind of test. God knows how they decide what's suitable. But it's fine. I can borrow Boomer's magazines or one of Franky's well thumbed “romances”. And they have some fiction in the education centre, if I feel strong enough to tackle something more highbrow.**

**Tensions are picking up a bit at the moment. Nana has teamed up with a new girl to give Franky some competition. She's not happy but I don't know if she's got the conviction to defend her title since the doc horse-whispered her. I hope it doesn't blow up into anything but I'll be staying out of it either way, don't worry. Otherwise, all is quiet. Boomer's back is good at the moment, Dor is pregnant, and Liz is knitting me a jumper - just in time for the warm weather. All perfectly normal …**

⁂

_Friday 22nd August 2014_

_Dear Bea,_

_Debbie’s going to be fine. I suppose it’s natural to wonder what might have been if that pregnancy had gone to term. I wonder, Deb wonders, and I don’t doubt that you wonder too. This is new information for her and once she has got used to it I hope she won’t dwell on it. Joe stops by most weekends and the two of them get along wonderfully. They could easily be brother and sister and, although it’s not the same, I think it helps her. I_ _hope _ _it helps her ..._

_… Whoa, run that by me again! Doreen is pregnant? How the hell did that happen? Well, obviously I know how it happened but …_ _How did it happen_ _… ?_

⁂

**Tue 26/08/14**

**… they met on the garden project. Dor seems totally besotted, but given that he's a prisoner too, I don't know what kind of future they have. At least you can visit me. Watching Doreen fret - about her man, about the baby - I am more grateful than ever that we have that at least. I don't know what I did to deserve you. In fact, I don't deserve you, but you keep on coming back so I'm not complaining ...**

⁂

_Thursday 28th August 2014_

_… I don't know whether to be happy for Doreen or annoyed that she managed to get some whilst incarcerated when we've only managed a few kisses._ _So far , _ _anyway._

_After you described how disgusting the prison food was at our last visit and how much you missed eating "real" food, it got me wondering what other things about the outside you might be missing. I feel like I know you so well in some ways and hardly at all in others. It's because I've only ever known you since you've been inside. I know you hardly had any freedom even before this, but maybe there were things you liked to do. I wish you'd tell me what they are …_

_… yet more in the news about “The Avengers”. In the article I read they cited the interview that Debbie gave about you and the injustice of your verdict. I showed it to Debbie and she is now totally inspired by the power of the media. A new ambition is born! I could see her giving Lois Lane a run for her money - “Debbie Smith, hard-nosed journo.” But seriously, I hope this group doesn’t do any severe damage to anyone. I don’t want her to think that anything that happens would be on her conscience ..._

⁂

**Tue 2/09/14**

**… like most of the women I spend a fair amount of time thinking about what I would be eating and drinking if I could. Fresh fruit and vegetables, meat and fish that hasn't been processed all to shit. A cold beer on a hot day. But mostly I imagine cooking. Just a normal meal. One of Debbie's favourites, like lasagne or that risotto I used to make. I miss that feeling of making her something and then watching her enjoy it, listening to her tell me about what happened at school. Other than that, I miss having a bath rather than a shower - a shower where I constantly have to worry about what kind of foot fungus I might be picking up. And I miss the ocean, looking at it, smelling it, being out on it. And I would love to get back into the high country. Mum and Dad used to take me there as a kid and sometimes I try to imagine I am looking at the lakes and mountains rather than the exercise yard. And I miss you. Even though we have never yet had a life on the outside I feel like I can almost imagine what it would be like ...**

**… because one of the prisoners had a miscarriage and another one lost her baby in childbirth. The department really needs to sort out the maternity care. I don’t blame Doreen for freaking out. I’m wondering if she’d be better asking for a transfer to Barnhurst, though apparently they’re full and of course she wouldn’t know anyone there. At least here she has all of us to help her out. I’d forgotten how exciting a pregnancy can be ...**

⁂

_Friday 5th September 2014_

_… but you don’t need to feel that way. We have decided to make that day the inaugural outing for the new pub quiz team - don’t worry, I’m saving you a spot. It’ll be me, Deb, Dad, Kaz and whichever of the boys can make it, plus a little empty space right next to me where I will be imagining you will sit in time. So I’ll be with my family having a laugh and a few drinks on my birthday. I’ll be missing you, obviously, and it would make my day to have you with me but it’s fine. I have every confidence that you’ll be out in plenty of time for my next birthday ..._

⁂

**Wed 10/09/14**

**… I saw on the TV news the letter that “The Avengers” sent to the press saying that it was my case that inspired them. I really don’t like this. I don’t want to be the inspiration for acts of violence, no matter how justified they may seem. Don’t they know that I did what I did out of desperation? They are seeking revenge not justice, no matter what they say. And this latest attack seems more violent than the last …**

**… I don’t think I mentioned how beautiful you looked on Monday. You always do, but you looked extra lovely. Something about the season must really suit you as you had a spring-like air to you that bowled me over. You wore that bee t-shirt and it reminded me of one of our first meetings. Was that deliberate? I hope you’re not worrying about me. Yes, I wanted to be there for your birthday but I’ll get over it. Take some pictures. And take some of whatever you and Deb get up to in her week off from school - the beach, the bikes, the backyard - whatever, however ordinary it seems to you, I want to see it ...**

⁂

_Saturday 13th September 2014_

_… I share your unease about these “Avengers”. If they kill someone it’ll hardly help your parole chances, even though you have nothing to do with what they’re doing. Perhaps you should talk to your lawyer about it. Perhaps she will think that putting out a statement distancing yourself from them would help ..._

⁂

**Fri 19/09/14**

**Happy birthday sweetheart.**

**I’m going to be thinking about you all day. Nothing new there, but I’ll be thinking extra hard and I hope you’ll be able to tell the difference. Have a great day filled with wonderful things. I hope Debbie will be spoiling you a bit … you deserve it. I wish I could be there with you and see that beautiful light come into your eyes every time someone makes you happy, but I’ll see you on Monday and you can tell me all about it …**

⁂

_Friday 19th September 2014_

_Dear Bea,_

_I know I will see you on Monday - mostly likely before you even get this letter - but I had to write and say thank you for giving me such a wonderful birthday. You and Debbie are extremely sneaky! Why have you never mentioned to me what a talented artist you are? The drawing you made of the three of us made me so happy. Okay, I’ll admit it made me cry, but in a happy way. You have put us all together on one page in a way we have never yet managed in real life and maybe it made me realise what we are missing, but it also showed me what we have to look forward to. It’s getting framed and it will take pride of place on my bedside table. And the roses were perfect. I know it was Debbie who organised them but when I look at them I think of you …_

⁂

**Wed 24/09/14**

**Dear Allie,**

**I don’t know how you managed it but thank you - from all of us. It was Mr Jackson who pointed out the large donation of new books for the education centre. Something about the look in his eye told me it was significant, so I checked it out and knew straight away that they had come from you. What a generous way to get around the difficulty of sending books to an individual prisoner, and so typical of you, my love. The shelves look rejuvenated now they are filled with bright new paperbacks. You’d better let me know if there are some you particularly recommend I read ...**

⁂

The piercing ring of the landline phone made Allie’s heart leap up. Partly that was down to the fact that it didn’t ring very often, although when it did, nine times out of ten it was her dad. But mostly it was because, every so often, when that phone rang it was Bea on the other end. That happened just often enough that any time it rang Allie’s heart bounded with excitement. She abandoned Bea’s latest letter and ran along the landing. Nerves jittering, she scurried down the stairs and grabbed the handset.

“Hello?” she said breathlessly. There was a short pause.

“Allie ...?” came a faint growl. Allie gasped with satisfaction.

“Bea … babe, it’s me.” She could hear the glee in her own voice and hoped Bea could hear it too. 

“Allie …” Still faint. There was a long silence. Allie was used to this. Telephone conversations with Bea were always a bit stop start.

"I'm here. It's so wonderful to hear your voice. Is everything alright?" Allie asked. There was a returning rumble that Allie couldn't make out. "I can't hear you babe. What was that?" Suddenly the line cleared.

"I said," Bea replied, enunciating exaggeratedly, "are you sitting down?"

"No, I'm standing up.” A pause. “But I could lie on the couch if you like. Do you want to know what I'm wearing? Imagine a semi-transparent blouse …"

_"Allie!"_ Bea protested. "This is not that kind of call …"

"Okay, okay. I'll sit down.” She sank down onto the carpet right where she had been standing. “Right. What's up?" Bea sounded pretty excited. Allie was praying for good news about the appeal or maybe a parole board date.

"Did you see the news? _The Avengers_ got rounded up …" Bea began, at speed. Allie tried not to be disappointed. 

"Yeah, I saw that on the telly the other night."

"They're bringing them here to Wentworth …" Bea continued excitedly. 

"Oh yeah? Then I guess they'll get to meet their hero. Lucky them …" Allie replied, wondering if she was missing something. 

"Allie," Bea replied in an aggrieved tone. "You're missing the point."

"Sorry babe. You're gunna have to spell it out for me."

"There's loads of them. It's caused a major overcrowding situation in here …"

"Oh no! You don't have to share a cell do you? Please say you're not sharing with Franky …"

"Can I finish?" Bea asked, her temper clearly shortening.

"Yes. Of course. Sorry." Allie pressed her lips together. 

"So the department has made a list of prisoners who are already in the parole process and they're gunna release us …" Allie gasped, startled. When she had hoped for good news she clearly had not been thinking big enough.

"You're getting released? You're coming home?" she asked, voice squeaking with surprise. 

"Well … yes and no …" Bea rumbled.

"What does that mean? Are you or are you not on that list?" Allie demanded, feeling sweat break out across her brow. 

"I'm on the list but … It's not a straightforward parole situation. They have this new facility and they're gunna test it out on us. It's kinda like serving your parole early. We get tagged and have to live at this facility. There'll be lots of rules and a curfew and God knows what. But I'll be out," Bea said, her voice full of a new found awe. "I'll be able to see you and Deb every day."

"Oh my God. This is huge babe," Allie gasped, tears starting up in her eyes. "Where? When?" She laughed, slightly hysterically. "Bloody hell," she continued, reaching up and tugging at her hair in case she was dreaming. "I can't believe it … Just wait til Deb hears …"

"Thursday …” Bea said, still sounding shocked herself. Allie punched the air. Not months or weeks. _Thursday_. “Uh … 32, Worthington Street," Bea continued, sounding as though she was reading from a sheet of paper. "That's pretty much all I know for now. It’s a place called Driscoll House."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that was quite fragmented. I wanted to give you the feeling of a conversation - but one that takes place over several weeks.
> 
> So I've gone all old school with the inclusion of Driscoll House. Let me know what you think.
> 
> I called the vigilante group "The Avengers" and I hope you are all thinking John Steed/Emma Peel rather than Marvel (though some of you might be too young!). I chose this because of the sad news last week of the death of Diana Rigg which saddened me greatly. She was so smart and beautiful and, from what I hear, quite an impressive character. I greatly enjoyed watching repeats of The Avengers which were often on the telly when I was younger. In case you don't know, Patrick McNee, who played John Steed, was raised by his mum Dorothea and her lover Evelyn. He turned out to be a lovely guy - a testament to lesbian mothers everywhere!
> 
> That's all from me. I look forward to hearing your thoughts. Hitch ❤


	27. "Coming Home"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is much anticipation and a minor case of cold feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the previous chapters and thanks for the comments and kudos.

Every moment since Bea had hung up the phone Allie had been waiting. Waiting to tell Debbie the good news, waiting for the reality of this wonderful new situation to register in her bones, waiting to find out it was all too good to be true and something had happened to fuck it up. But now … now she was just sitting in the dark, waiting for Bea.

They had positioned themselves outside an inauspicious looking building, avoiding parking under any streetlights. Clinging to the run-down street corner, the tired building had no charm, no beauty and no sign. But Allie knew it to be Driscoll House, the community halfway house for parolees, and so she loved it already for the opportunity it represented. She glanced at the time on her phone. Eight o'clock already. They shouldn't even be here at all, really. In a second phone call Bea had told them not to come today. She had explained that they would not be released from Wentworth and brought here until the evening, and even then they would not be free to see their families. There would be paperwork, room assignments, electronic tagging …

Allie’s mind slalomed around that last thought as she glanced through the gloom at Debbie. She had been silent for the whole journey and was now biting her bottom lip anxiously. Was she, like Allie, worrying that something might still go wrong at this late stage? That the prisoners might not arrive? Or, that when they did, Bea would not be among them? 

"Alright Deb?" she asked, reaching out to squeeze her fingers. Debbie nodded distractedly, her eyes fixed on the building. "She'll be here." Allie twisted round to check that Bea’s bag was still on the backseat, although there was no reason why it might not be there and she had already nervously checked on it several times. It contained a selection of clothing from the storage unit, plus toiletries and a few snacks that Allie had thrust into the side pocket. Apparently the department would continue to provide everything the women needed but Allie could see no reason why Bea should not have her own clothes and a few luxuries. This place hardly looked like it had adequate funding for the necessities, never mind anything half decent. Still, there were no high walls and no razor wire. It was a step in the right direction.

⁂

“It’s a step in the right direction,” she said defensively, hand tightening around her phone.

“I know, bub. I’m just saying that you can’t expect her to step out of the prison gates and straight into your arms as though nothing has happened …”

 _“Obviously._ I know that,” Allie replied. Trust Kaz to rain on her parade when she was delivering the best news of the decade. And, rationally, she did know not to expect too much from Bea, even though her fantasies had often included exactly what Kaz had just described. There would be a period of adjustment, but surely that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the excitement of this new development.

“She’ll have been institutionalised,” Kaz continued knowledgeably. “Being more or less free is going to be strange for her. Plus, from what I’ve heard, her life was pretty locked down even before prison. Add to that all the trauma she’s endured … sexual and otherwise ...”

“Jeez, Kaz. Cut it out will you? I know better than you what she’s been through! You must have a pretty low opinion of me …”

“Not at all …”

“No? Cause it sounds like you think I’m gunna jump her the second I get a chance!”

“I know you won’t. I just don’t want you to get hurt if she doesn’t … if she can’t … be like that, with you.”

“Y’know what Kaz? I think this is something that Bea and I will have to figure out. In private.” Allie was far from being a prude but she certainly didn’t want to get into the details of her sex life with Kaz. Not that she had a sex life as such. Yet. And that was something that Debbie had commented on a number of times in the last few months.

⁂

“Happy birthday Allie!” Allie smiled reflexively and tolerated the exuberant hug from the vaguely familiar looking stranger. She frowned at Debbie over the interloper’s shoulder, and pulled a _what-the-fuck?_ face. Debbie shrugged a non-apology.

“You remember Freya, Allie? From the shelter ..?” Debbie prompted. The face clicked into place. This was the baby dyke that Kaz had encouraged her to go out with a few months ago.

“Sure,” Allie replied, backing away. “How nice of you to come.” _Uninvited._

“Freya knows tons about music and films. She’ll be a real asset to the team,” Debbie explained. “And since Freddo couldn’t make it … I figured …” she trailed off apparently intimidated by Allie’s death stare, “... we could use the extra help,” she finished, sounding a little deflated, her brows knitting in confusion.

“Great,” Allie replied to Freya, knowing her response lacked sincerity but unable to muster up anything more enthusiastic.

“What’ll you have to drink, Allie?” Freya asked, gesturing towards the bar, hope in her eyes.

“Oh, no. I’m good thanks, Freya.” The woman-child looked disappointed but merely nodded and allowed Debbie to draw her away. Allie returned to their table.

“I didn’t know Freya was coming,” Kaz commented.

“Neither did I,” Allie responded meaningfully.

“Oh,” Kaz replied with raised eyebrows. There was a moment of silence while she figured it out. “Deb wasn’t to know,” she continued in a low voice. “I’m sure she thought she was doing you a favour.” Allie nodded dispiritedly. Kaz was right. Debbie wasn’t to know that the last thing she was looking for was romance having already stumbled into the biggest one of her life by accident several months ago. Maybe she should talk to Bea about letting Debbie know what was going on between them.

“Budge up everyone,” Debbie said. Freya and Debbie had reappeared with their drinks. Allie shuffled up. But instead of Debbie sitting next to her she got Freya. _Fuck off,_ she thought, furiously. _That’s Bea’s spot._

⁂

And now Allie knew that Bea was getting out, she was seeing her everywhere. She imagined her in the passenger seat of her car whenever she went anywhere, coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, drying her hair. She saw her in the backyard, relaxing with a cup of tea cradled in her hands, enjoying the peace of the morning. She saw her in her kitchen, on her couch, in her bed. It was dizzying; delightful, but also exhausting. She knew Bea couldn’t live here with them. She had to live at the halfway house and there would be strict rules about what she could do and where and when and with whom. Allie didn’t yet know the exact conditions of this almost release, this “kind of parole”, this pseudo incarceration and, normally, that would be fine. She usually managed not to think too hard about the future, trusting to fate that things would eventually come right. But for once her mind was plagued with worries, chief among them being how the two of them would negotiate this new reality. Even her usual “Bea time” imaginings failed to bring her usual peaceful rest at night. She loved Bea more than she had thought it was possible to love anyone and couldn’t wait to be with her every day, but they were used to being together for only one hour a week. Even after all these months that added up to almost nothing. What if Bea found her annoying when they were together more? Found her too demanding or overly clingy? What if Kaz was right and Bea couldn’t adjust to life post Harry, post-prison. Or even worse, what if Kaz was even right about Allie herself. It had stuck in her head what Kaz had sometimes suggested: that she had a thing for older, unattainable women. That would mean that once Bea became “attainable” she might lose interest.

Allie shook her head at that. Nope. Not going to happen. Bea was perfect. Allie had her issues no doubt, painful in their own way, damaging too, she supposed: the death of her mother, her father’s rejection and its aftermath. But she had overcome all of that. Sure, her relationship with Ingrid had been a mistake, but that didn’t mean that she was doomed to repeat it. She had been younger then, overawed by Ingrid’s beauty and charisma, feeling indestructible after bouncing back from her disastrous early life and into a successful new career. She knew now that what she had felt for Ingrid had been infatuation. She could see now what everyone else must have seen: a naïve girl making a fool of herself over her boss. Ingrid was never going to leave her husband for her, no matter what she had said, and Allie had thrown away her job and lost her friends for nothing. Nothing except an expensive life lesson. But she had learnt it well. Rather than throwing herself into the arms of the first available woman she had thrown herself into her work and her fostering and waited patiently for real love to come along. And now her patience had paid off. She could never have predicted that fostering Debbie would lead to her finding love in a prison visiting room, but … thank God. Thank God for Debbie. And thank God for Bea.

⁂

Allie shook her head.

“You choose. I’ll just wait out here.” Debbie gave her a curious look but took the proffered bag without comment and entered the storage unit.

“Are you sure we’ll even be able to give her this stuff?” Debbie's voice floated out. Allie could hear her rummaging around amongst the boxes and clothing rails.

“Not at all,” Allie replied. “But I don’t want her to have to wear whatever festy old clobber the halfway house can provide. So we can at least try …” There were some loud thuds, as of a pile of boxes coming down. Debbie cursed under her breath.

“Are you alright?” Allie asked, poking her head around the door.

“Yeah,” Debbie replied, staring dispiritedly at the boxes that had split open at her feet. Allie swallowed, unwillingly captivated by the garments that peeked suggestively out from the collapsing cardboard and mesmerised by the pieces that had draped themselves brazenly across the floor. Despite the fact that they were not underwear, Allie found even looking at them shockingly intimate. The sight engendered in her, first a tenderness that stung her eyes, and then a sudden heat as her mind disobediently imagined her own hands stroking down those sleeves as a prelude to nudging under that hem to the warm flesh beneath.

“Help me pick this lot up, will you?” Debbie asked, crouching down and beginning to gather the items together. Allie wanted to back away, remembering how overpowering it had been last time, handling Bea’s clothes. But Debbie was already looking at her peculiarly. After her birthday morning, when Allie had received first the drawing from Bea and then the roses, she had begun to feel that Debbie must surely know how it was between her and her mum. But then, that very evening, she had brought Freya along to the quiz, clearly matchmaking. Allie was confused and had still not had the opportunity to talk to Bea about explaining to Debbie about them. So now she had to tamp down her feelings and just pitch in and pretend that these were not Bea’s things but just some random pieces of cloth. “Mustn’t forget pyjamas …” Debbie was muttering to herself. Allie felt the heat rising in her face as her imagination rioted. “And she’ll want her running gear,” Debbie continued, shaking out some shorts and then a singlet. Allie stood up and leaned with one arm against the wall, feeling light-headed but trying to look casual. “You okay?” Debbie asked, crumpling her brow.

“Is it me, or is it kind of hot in here?” Allie asked, fanning herself with one hand. “I’ll just wait outside …”

Ten minutes later Debbie appeared in the doorway hefting the bag that was now stuffed to capacity. Allie eyed it curiously. She didn’t have much of an idea of what Debbie had selected and that suited her fine. She would see the clothes when Bea was inside of them. And she couldn’t wait.

⁂

"Happy birthday!" Debbie sang out as she waltzed into the kitchen. She bent over and kissed Allie on the cheek, filching a piece of bacon off the far side of her plate while she was distracted. 

"Hey," Allie objected, though without any ire. Debbie twirled out of reach, the bacon already gripped between her teeth.

"Growing girl …" Debbie explained cheekily. 

"Yeah, yeah," Allie replied. Debbie bent down and rummaged in the back of one of the cupboards.

"This is for you," Debbie announced around a mouthful of bacon, holding out a flat package that looked like an oversized envelope stiffened with cardboard. Allie looked at it, mystified. 

"But it's addressed to you," Allie said. Debbie nodded.

"Sent to me for you via the prison postal service," she said with an air of triumph. Allie's heart gave two uneven thuds before subsiding into its usual rhythm. _Bea had sent her something_. "Open it then," Debbie continued impatiently. Allie took up a table knife and slit the end neatly. Peering inside, the package seemed to contain a single sheet of paper. Allie pulled it out and for a moment could hardly work out what she was looking at. 

"How ..?"

"Mum's always been good at drawing from memory," Debbie replied coolly, taking another bite of bacon.

"Your mum drew this?" Allie asked incredulously. 

"Who else?" Debbie replied. Allie swallowed hard. 

"Why didn't she say anything?" she asked. She turned her face away to conceal her brimming eyes. 

"You know mum," Debbie continued lightly. "She's not the kind …" She broke off abruptly. "I'm sure she didn't mean for it to make you cry, Allie." Allie's tears had spilled over. She wiped them away with her hands and gave a small laugh. 

"Birthdays always make me emotional," she explained. Debbie gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. "Besides. Have you seen this?" Allie asked with a catch in her voice. Debbie took the drawing out of her hand and examined it critically.

"Not bad. She's captured your smile but … why do I look cross-eyed?" Allie nudged the grinning girl, her tears forgotten. 

"You do not!"

"And look! She's drawn herself to look taller than both of us. That's not right."

"It's just the angle," Allie said defensively. “And she _is_ taller than you.” _But not taller than me,_ Allie thought smugly, remembering with a flash of heat how she had often employed that slight height difference to her advantage during their weekly hugs.

"Huh. Yeah, well. As long as you like it," Debbie conceded. After giving Allie a measuring look that Allie couldn’t interpret she went back into a crouch and opened that same cupboard again. "This one's from me. And this one's from Nova."

"The cat got me a birthday present?" Allie asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I had to remind her, but, yeah." Allie laughed and looked around. The cat in question was nowhere to be seen.

Allie unwrapped the parcel from Debbie. It was a pair of the cashmere socks she had been coveting. Allie gasped, smiling. 

"Deb, you shouldn't have. These are too expensive!"

"Turns out they were in the end of season sale," she replied with a shrug. "I knew you'd never get them for yourself." Allie stroked the soft wool.

"Such a pretty colour too."

"Can't have you getting all grumpy over your cold feet," Debbie replied. It was true. Allie hated getting cold feet. 

"Thank you," she said, standing up and giving Debbie a one armed hug, unwilling to put her gift down.

"No worries. Don't forget to open Nova's. You know how she gets." Allie regarded the long, thin package. What could it be? Tearing into the paper she found a cat toy in the shape of a fishing rod with a clump of bright feathers at the end of the string. Allie laughed. 

"I'm not sure she's got the hang of choosing presents yet," she said, giving the toy an experimental swish.

"That's cats for you." Debbie put a slice of bread in the toaster and opened the fridge door, scanning the shelves speculatively. “I’m going to the shelter straight from school today, so you won’t need to pick me up. I’ll meet you at the pub in time for the quiz.” Allie blinked in surprise.

“Have you okayed this with Kaz?” she asked.

“Of course. She even offered to cook for me.”

“Lucky you.” Allie was warmed to find that Kaz and Debbie were getting along. That Kaz was making her dinner was a sure sign that she welcomed Debbie into their lives despite her earlier reservations.

“What have you got on today?” Debbie asked, removing the lid from a jar and sniffing the contents.

“Work. And then I’m meeting my dad for lunch.”

“Nice …” The doorbell interrupted her. “I expect that’s for you,” Debbie said with a smile.

“Really?” Allie padded over to the door. It was too early for visitors, surely, even on her birthday. Swinging the door open, she found that the delivery person had already departed, leaving a stunning bouquet of yellow roses on the doorstep. Unable to remember when she had last received flowers and equally unable to think who might have sent such a thing, she bent down and plucked out the card.

_“Happy birthday Allie, love Bea.”_

Allie smiled tremulously, not sure which was uppermost: gladness that Bea had arranged something so thoughtful, or sadness that she wasn’t here to share the day with her.

⁂

Debbie grabbed her arm suddenly.

“This must be them,” she exclaimed, her eyes fixed on a set of approaching headlights, the first they had seen in some time. Allie’s heart ratcheted up several notches as she watched a minibus pull up in front of Driscoll House. A prison guard stepped out, Allie recognising her as Miss Miles, and was greeted by a woman from the halfway house. Debbie was already reaching for the car door release.

“Hold on a tick,” Allie said. “Let’s wait until they start to get off the bus. Maybe then we can briefly see your mum and get this stuff to her.” They watched anxiously as Miss Miles and the woman from the house conferred over some paperwork. There was some gesturing, maybe some disagreement. Miss Miles’s face hardened as she indicated for the woman to back away. She looked dismayed, this woman, but took a step back, arms folded over her chest. She had a kind look about her, Allie thought. Her long ponytail was clearly greying but, from what she could see, she had a contrastingly youthful face.

And then the prisoners began to climb out of the bus. Miss Miles tilted her clipboard towards the available light and checked them off against a sheet of paper. Then, with the help of another officer, she had them line up along the fence. The face of every woman that disembarked that bus got Allie’s scrutiny, even though she already knew them not to be Bea based on their stance, figure or some other elusive quality. She recognised Bea from the shape of her silhouette the moment that her foot touched the ground, even though she looked otherwise unfamiliar without her prison uniform. These clothes, Allie suddenly realised, were probably those that Bea was wearing when she was arrested. They were pretty ordinary, by most standards. Jeans and runners, a scoop-necked top and crocheted cardigan, but to Allie they were almost unbearably exotic. Uniform gone, some of Bea’s individuality was returned to her, along with her humanity. Allie ran her eyes along the line up. All of these women looked different now, their clothes signifying them to be no longer prisoners but individuals with their own hopes and troubles.

Allie watched as Miss Miles marched up and down in front of the women, apparently imparting some last minute instructions. Debbie was stirring beside her.

“Wait for it …” Allie said quietly, watching intently, waiting for the right moment. The instant the column of women turned as though to enter the building Allie threw her door open. “Now!” She grabbed the bag off the back seat, threw it over her shoulder and began to jog over to the minibus, Debbie hard on her heels.

“Bea!” she called.

“Mum!” Debbie echoed.

Bea’s head turned. Her hair swung out, seeming to Allie to move almost in slow motion. For an instant Bea’s mouth opened in shock. Then, hastily checking the position of the guards, she broke ranks and started towards them, a smile breaking out across her face.

“Smith!” Miss Miles objected. But Bea was already with them, toe-to-toe with Debbie, who was grabbing her mum up in a tearful hug. Allie stood just behind her, her eyes on Bea’s, their gazes knitting together thankfully, all Allie’s fears dissipating. Bea folded her daughter to her, tears rolling down her smiling face, her gaze not leaving Allie’s for a second.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” she growled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Together at last!
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts.
> 
> I hope you are all well and staying safe. Hitch ❤


	28. "The Safe Place"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which preparations are made and feelings are examined ahead of a change of scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sincere thanks to you all for comments and kudos on the previous chapters. Here's the next installment.

Bea leaned her shoulder against the window and tuned out the chatter of the other women. It was warm on the bus and the vibration of the engine was soothing, but when she met her own gaze in the darkly reflecting window she could see all her apprehension staring back at her. She averted her eyes and glanced around the minibus. Smiles and Mr Fletcher were sitting at the front and the women were spread around on the seats as they pleased, in high good humour. She couldn’t blame them. Even if the halfway house was not exactly a home it was sure to be a million times better and safer than what they had left behind at Wentworth. But it was leaving Wentworth behind that was putting a dent in her own spirits at the moment. No matter how much she was looking forward to being out and being with Debbie and Allie she couldn’t help but feel forlorn at leaving her little prison family behind. Liz, with her kindness and patience; Maxine, with her quiet watchfulness and care; Boomer’s childlike joys and sadnesses; Franky’s smarts and cheek; and Doreen. Well, she couldn’t help but worry about Doreen. 

⁂

“Ah, Bea. Please sit down,” Miss Davidson said graciously, as though they were attending a tea party rather than meeting in the Governor’s office across a desk strewn with prison paperwork. She smiled at Bea as she sat down. Bea nodded a politely neutral greeting. Miss Davidson looked genuinely pleased, so, rather than this meeting presaging another warning, it seemed that there might actually be some positive news. Bea’s heart rate picked up in anticipation. “I’m pleased to be able to share with you some good news.”

“Oh yeah?” Bea asked cautiously, leaning forward a little in her seat.

“Yes. A few months ago the department was persuaded to part with a block of funds that will allow the corrections service to interact with _select_ prisoners in a more … rehabilitative way.” The Governor paused there, looking so pleased with herself that Bea deduced that she herself had been the one to do the persuading. She nodded her understanding. “We are opening an innovative facility to assist newly paroled women in adapting to life on the outside; giving them the best possible chance to find the education, employment and accommodation that is essential to their future success.” So far, so marketing brochure, thought Bea. “Not to mention the support of their families and friends that is so important to them.” Bea’s head snapped up, newly interested.

“Families ..?” she said faintly. Miss Davidson nodded, looking smug. Then a shadow passed across her face.

“Circumstances have changed and we now find it necessary to open the new halfway house earlier than planned.” The Governor went quiet for a moment, pursing her lips. “I’m sure that you’ve heard by now that the group calling themselves _The Avengers_ have been arrested?” Bea nodded. “They are being held in temporary accommodation for the moment but, I daresay you will understand that, given the nature of their crimes and the publicity surrounding them that we cannot be seen to go easy on them. So, they will be moved to Wentworth as soon as possible. Which is going to leave us a little short of space.” Bea nodded.

“What’s all this got to do with me?” she asked. “I know _The Avengers_ have got a bee in their bonnet about me but I’m more than happy to stay away from them. I won’t be stirring them up or anything …” Miss Davidson smiled.

“I assumed as much. You miss your daughter very much I expect?” Bea blinked in surprise.

“Of course,” Bea replied. “But …”

“I know that your parole has not progressed to the panel stage yet but, given your personal circumstances, I am prepared to add you to the roster of women that we will be putting forward as residents for the halfway house …” Bea came halfway to her feet in agitation. _Personal circumstances?_ Did she mean Debbie? Or because of the presence of _The Avengers_ ? Or perhaps what she had suffered through in her marriage? “Sit down, Smith,” the Governor said, not unkindly, perhaps reading the shock on Bea’s face. Bea sank back onto the chair. “If I am to put you forward, I have to be sure that you are committed to seeing the programme through. Any failures would reflect very badly on the department and might jeopardise the future of this very important project.” Bea’s face must have looked blank but her mind was spinning. _Where, when_ … Did this mean she could be with Debbie and Allie? “I’m sure this is a surprise, and I don’t need an answer right now …"

“Is it in Melbourne? This halfway house?” Bea interrupted. 

“Yes, it’s in Melbourne.”

“Would I be able to see my daughter?”

“The centre is residential and you would have a curfew and a programme of appointments to attend, activities to complete, and so on, but, yes. Outside of those limitations you would be free to spend time with your daughter.” Bea laughed delightedly and shook her head in disbelief. All that worrying about her sentence; about being away from Debbie for so long; about having to neglect what ought to have been the natural progression of her relationship with Allie. Two years! Her prison sentence cut down in a few minutes to little more than nine months. Perhaps there was some justice in the world after all.

“This isn’t some kind of a joke?” she asked with a cocked eyebrow. The governor smiled with genuine warmth.

“No, Bea. No joke.”

“Where do I sign?”

⁂

“What was that all about Red?” Franky asked over the hiss of the steam press. “What did our foxy Governor want?”

“You won’t …”

“Anderson!” Mr Fletcher bellowed, cutting across Bea's reply. Doreen’s head whipped round. “Governor wants to see you.” Doreen glanced at Franky and Bea doubtfully. Bea smiled reassuringly, feeling sure that Dor was about to get the same proposition from the governor that she had just received. 

"What's going on?" Franky demanded. In an excited whisper Bea explained about the halfway house and how the arrest of _The Avengers_ had caused management to accelerate their plans.

"I'm on the list to go, Franky. And I expect this means that Dor is too." Franky cursed and grimaced.

"Sorry Red, but this couldn't happen at a worse time. The way Jacs and Tina Mercado are carrying on I coulda really used ya to back me up. Shit. If both you and Dor get out I'm gunna be seriously short-handed."

"You can't really expect me to turn this chance down just so you can keep working the press?” Bea asked crossly. “I'm gunna be back with Debbie," she pointed out in disbelief.

"I know, I know. Look, I don't care about being top dog," Franky replied. Bea believed her. Ever since she had started having sessions with Dr Westfall Franky's whole outlook had shifted. Now she was focussed on getting released and building a relationship with her dad and half-sister. And the good doctor too, no doubt. "But if they oust me, that won't be the end of it. Jacs won't be satisfied until she takes me down and Maxine, Liz and Boomer with me." Franky's usually shining eyes were subdued as they rested on Bea's and Bea thought she'd never seen the mercurial Franky look more serious. Her belly shrank in fear, remembering the beating that Jacs had ordered for her. That could have been much worse. And the long-running enmity between the two women would ensure that Jacs wouldn't pull any punches with Franky. 

"So what can we do?" she hissed back. How could she leave Wentworth behind if she knew her friends would be in danger? Franky looked around to make sure that no one was listening in.

"I'm gunna need to recruit some new crew members. Maybe find someone who will eventually take over when I get released. There must be someone in here who's level-headed enough to see that having Jacs and Mercado running this place would be a fucking disaster."

⁂

“You lucky bitches! Why aren’t I getting out to live in this cushy half’n’half house or whatever …” Boomer complained petulantly. Franky laughed.

“Half _way,_ ” Liz corrected her.

“Maybe because ya’d find some way to fuck it up …” Franky replied, a sliver of her old casual cruelty slipping out automatically. Doreen gave her a reproving look. “And because I can’t do without ya, ya big lug,” Franky continued hastily, giving Boomer a squeeze around the neck, causing her pout to instantly disappear.

“Yeah Booms, I need you to keep me company,” Maxine chipped in. “‘Cos we’re really gunna miss Dor and Bea, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Boomer said sadly. “It’s right what you said though Maxi. It’ll be best for Doreen’s bub, hey?” Maxine nodded.

“I can’t believe it,” Doreen said, rubbing her slight bump in wonder. “I’ll be able to go to proper doctor’s appointments and scans and everything …”

“It’s great news,” Liz said. “You can go to prenatal classes. And your baby will be born on the outside.” Doreen’s brow folded anxiously.

“Oh, but I was counting on you Liz. To help me through this …”

“Hey!” Liz reached over and patted her hand. “You’re gunna do great … besides …” Liz glanced up at Bea who gave her a firm nod. “Bea’s gunna be with you.”

“Yeah?” Doreen asked, swivelling her head and looking at Bea hopefully.

“Of course,” Bea told her. “Every step of the way.” Doreen’s face split into a huge grin.

⁂

“Allie?”

“Hey babe. Calling again so soon? Can’t wait until Thursday, huh?”

“That’s what I’m calling about …”

“Oh God. Please don’t tell me this whole thing has fallen apart already.”

“No, it’s still happening. But I just got called into a meeting with the Governor.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah … Look, they’re still releasing us on Thursday but they’re gunna do it after hours to avoid the press.”

“The press? Why …”

“This whole thing with _The Avengers_ and their supposed connection to me has got Miss Davidson in a spin. I think she wants to avoid the press reporting something along the lines of ‘Husband killer Bea Smith dodges vigilante vixens!’ or whatever.”

“Huh. _Is_ that why they’re releasing you?”

“As far as I know it’s because of the overcrowding, but she did mention my _personal circumstances,_ whatever that means.”

“Hmm. I bet she heard what came out at trial and doesn’t think you deserve to be inside any longer ... ooh, or she read the interview with Deb …”

“Maybe …”

“Or maybe she thinks the press will pick up on the fact that you’ve only served two months since your trial. That could cause a fuss.”

“Maybe.”

…

…

…

“God, your silences are sexy … _And_ your laugh. I can’t wait to see your beautiful face and your sexy ...”

“Me neither. Oh ... good news. Doreen is being released too.”

“She’ll be with you at the halfway house?”

“Yep.”

“That’s great! I’ll feel better knowing you have a friend there.”

“Yeah. But … she has no one on the outside, so …”

_“She has us._ ”

“I knew you’d say that. Thanks Allie.”

“Anything to hear your gorgeous smile.”

“You can’t _hear_ a smile.”

“Yes I can. And I can see it.”

_“How?”_

“I have a very vivid imagination.”

“Yes, Allie, I know. Anyway, it would be too hard for her to go through this pregnancy alone, until Nash gets out.”

“Yeah, well, we won’t let that happen. And I know you said how much she was worrying about the prison’s healthcare. This way she can get the same care as any other pregnant woman.”

“Maybe that’s why they put her on the list. The department can’t risk the bad publicity of another maternity cock up …”

“Whatever the reason, babe, she’s getting out. And so are you. That’s the main thing.”

“Yeah. Listen, I’ve gotta go. Until Friday …”

“Can’t wait. I love you.”

⁂

_I love you._ Those words wouldn't stop revolving around Bea's head for the rest of the day. Eventually she headed to the gym hoping that concentrating on her workout would empty her mind.

"You're very quiet," Maxine said from her position as spotter. Only she didn't just say it, she said it in that way she had that gave it extra significance. Bea breathed out hard and concentrated on pushing the weights up until her arm muscles burned.

"Just … working …"

"Just nothing. You're brooding," she said accusatively. "And whilst I'm sure Allie eats that shit up, it does nothing for me." Bea almost dropped the bar in surprise. She wasn't sure what Maxine saw in her face but the next moment she tilted her head sympathetically. "It's supposed to be a secret is it?" A slight smile softened her face. "You'll have to try harder if you think you're gunna fool anyone." Bea lowered the bar to her chest whilst she thought how to respond. "I've seen your face after her visits and when Mr Jackson hands over the post.” Bea fervently hoped not everyone was as observant as Maxine. She could tell that her continued silence was beginning to bother Maxine and, as much as she didn’t want to upset her and valued her friendship, she still had no clue how to begin talking about how she felt. “You can’t think that I would judge you for this Bea?” Maxine asked, the hurt evident in her voice.

“Of course not,” Bea finally blurted out, pushing the bar up one last time. Maxine took the weight off her and rested it on its stand. Bea got up and began to towel off, using the distraction as a cover for her discomfiture, although Maxine, it seemed, would be unlikely to be fooled. “It’s just …” She sighed heavily and sat down, draping the towel around her neck. Finally she looked Maxine in the face. “We haven’t even told Debbie yet,” she said, her voice hushed by a sudden constriction in her throat. Maxine’s face was transformed by a smile that told Bea how much it meant to her for her friend to be happy. Bea could feel an answering smile forming on her own face. She dipped her head, knowing that a blush would follow at any moment. 

"This is wonderful. I'm so happy for you, Bea. You deserve this," Maxine told her. Bea made a disparaging sound in her throat. "What's that for?"

"I don't know. I just got to thinking that she's gunna regret ever …" _Falling for me._ "I have _zero_ to offer her,” she continued. “And now I'm getting out on parole she's gunna see that, Maxi. No home, no money, no job. In here it's kinda acceptable. I can't do anything or go anywhere and I have nothing … but on the outside … What's she gunna think? I have a criminal record now. Who the hell is gunna employ me?"

"But that's the point of this programme isn't it? To help you get back on your feet," Maxine replied reasonably.

"Miss Davidson told me it's no quick fix. That I’ll have to be patient.” She grimaced and Maxine laughed.

“Well, think of it as a test … or self-development.” Bea groaned histrionically and Maxine laughed again. They gathered together their things and headed for the showers. “Patience is a great thing to have. It wouldn’t hurt you to cultivate some,” Maxine told her pointedly as they made their way along the corridor.

“Yes _Mum_ ,” Bea replied with an exaggerated eye roll. Maxine dug her in the ribs with an elbow. “Ow!”

“Such a child! You must give Debbie a run for her money.”

“Nah,” Bea replied, becoming serious. “I’m gunna work so hard to be the best mum I can be when I get out. I let too much slide before. This time I’m gunna be the mum she deserves.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself Bea. You were in an impossible position before. And it’s obvious how much you love her, so you got that bit right.”

“Yeah …”

“And that’s the main bit. And think of all the things that you’ve got to look forward to now …”

Entering the bathroom, Bea thought about everything that was coming up: living on the outside, keeping up with her therapy, mothering Debbie, finding a job, following the stipulations of her parole. And learning to be with Allie in a new way, something that was both exciting and terrifying. Could she do it? It was a lot. She examined her reddened face in the blurry shower-room mirror, noticing the fear, searching for the determination.

“You know what?” Maxine said from behind her. Their eyes met in the mirror. “It suits you.” Bea lifted a hand to her hair. _“Not that._ Being in love.” 

Oh. _That._

⁂

She tugged at her cardigan. _This old thing._ She had hardly expected to see it again, much less wear it. It brought back those evil memories of the police cell, the questioning, the brawler. Her first day here in Wentworth. It was less than a year ago but it may as well have happened to a different person. It seemed so distant now. Maybe she should have worn Liz’s lumpy jumper instead. Too late now. Grabbing her bag of scanty belongings, she took a final look around her cell and stepped out into the lounge area.

A cheer went up, whistles from Franky, hand clapping from Maxine. Hugs all round.

“I’m gunna miss you lot,” Bea confessed, seeing her own sadness reflected in Liz’s watery eyes.

“Come here.” Liz fixed her with a tight hug. “Make the most of this, yeah? We don’t want to see you back.” Bea nodded.

“Go get ‘em Red,” Franky said loudly, a shine to her eyes, her cocky grin in place. If she was worried about the future Bea could see no sign of it.

“Be careful,” Bea told her. “Persuade those women, get them on side. Carly, Lindsay, Hayley, like we talked about, yeah?” Franky nodded.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be right,” she said. Bea nodded back. Franky was a survivor for sure, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t worry.

“Where’s Dor?” Bea asked, looking around. “Has she really got so much crap that she’s still packing?”

“Governor called her in at the last minute,” Liz said.

“Yeah?” Bea asked. _Now what?_

“Hey, Bea. You can send us in some stuff, yeah? Magazines and biccies and stuff?” Boomer asked in a hopeful tone, her hands clasped pleadingly in front of her.

“Sorry Booms. I wish I could, but one of the terms …”

“Smith!” Mr Fletcher cut across her. “Time to go.”

“But Doreen’s not back yet, Mr Fletcher,” Bea protested.

“Anderson’s with the Governor. Last minute instructions I expect,” he replied. “But we’ve got to go,” he said urgently, tapping his watch face. “Say your goodbyes quickly. You don’t wanna miss the bus.” Bea picked up her bag and quickly hugged Boomer, Liz, Franky and, lastly, Maxine.

“Make sure you tell her,” Maxine whispered in her ear.

“Huh?” Bea asked, drawing back to look at her.

“How you feel. I’m sure she knows, but a girl likes to hear it,” Maxine said with a smile.

“Smith!” Mr Fletcher repeated.

Bea felt a blush rise up her throat. She gave her friends one last smile and hurried away.

⁂

Stepping off the bus, Bea was hit with a wave of cool night air. She drew it deep into her lungs. It tasted amazing; so refreshing, no staleness, no smell of rubber soled shoes or overcooked food. When was the last time she had been outside after dark? She couldn’t even remember. Smiles was marching up and down, ushering the women into a line. Bea allowed herself to be corralled, not minding for once, knowing that this would probably be the last time Miss Miles would be ordering her around. She dropped her bag at her feet and tuned out the stream of warnings and instructions that issued from Smiles’ mouth. _What had happened to Doreen?_ she fretted. _Had her meeting with Miss Davidson run over, making her miss the bus?_

“Alright. In you go. Let’s get these tags fitted,” Smiles said, waving them forward.

“Bea!”

“Mum!”

Her head was turning before she had even registered what she had heard. Something deep inside her had recognised those voices in some infinitesimally small division of a second and then she was moving, and then she was holding Debbie in her arms and it felt so good. And then Allie’s glorious eyes were strung to hers and they buzzed with motes of ecstatic light and … _Hang on …_

“What the hell are you two doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things should speed up a bit now that Bea is outside and they can see each other more. There will be a corresponding change of structure, as we won't need the A/B/Together triple chapter thingy that has drawn this out (maybe unnecessarily!).  
> Not too much happened here, but hopefully next week there will be lots to enjoy.  
> I am typing this with the kittens lying on the desk next to me. Any typos ... blame them! Hitch ❤


	29. "Together"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our heroines are together at last.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” Bea asked incredulously, squeezing Debbie tightly before releasing her enough to look in her face. She looked tired and tearful, and spookily young, like a small child allowed to stay up past her bedtime. But still, to hold her and to know that they were together on the outside was to know relief, and her heart bounded ecstatically. At the edge of her field of vision she could see Allie’s hand make an abortive move towards her. She knew that feeling. It was the impulse to reach out and touch, barely controlled by the necessity of the situation in which they found themselves. Without conscious thought her eyes focussed on Allie’s and their gazes reknit into a single, sustaining cord.

 _“Debbie_ couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see you," Allie replied, eyes sparking cheekily. 

_“Just_ Debbie?” Bea asked, watching the knowing smile curve Allie’s lips. God, those lips. What was it about them that made her actually thirst to press her own mouth against them? Was it that particular shade of pink? Or the fullness of her lower lip? Or her shapely upper lip? Perhaps it was the beauty spot that lay just above her lip on the left hand side. Belatedly, Bea flicked her eyes away from her inventory of Allie’s mouth to Debbie, only to see her watching the exchange with interest.

“Smith! Get back into line," Smiles interrupted abruptly. "I'm sorry Miss, but the prisoner is not free to associate at this time," she said more politely, addressing Allie now. "Families really should have been informed …"

"I’m _so_ sorry,” Allie replied. Bea was stunned by the contrition in her expression and her suddenly humble body language. Only someone who knew her well would spot it as fake. Bea suppressed a smile. “It’s _completely_ my fault. I just wanted to drop off some things …"

“I’m sorry, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow,” Smiles replied firmly. “Come on Smith. Back into line.”

 _“Mum_ …” Debbie protested urgently. “Will you be okay?”

“Of course, Deb,” Bea said, stroking first her hair and then her face. “I’ll be fine. It’s so good to see you baby girl. I’ve got to go,” she said, squeezing her hand, glancing at Allie, who was having a stab at producing one of her brilliant smiles. And Bea appreciated the attempt, even though the overall effect was ruined by a chin wobble that she couldn’t quite suppress. “Go with Allie now and I’ll see you tomorrow,” she finished with an apologetic smile and a kiss to the cheek. She turned away to rejoin the group only to find that she couldn’t bear to have her back to them. She swung around and walked backwards for the last few steps that it took to hook onto the end of the line, watching as Debbie cuddled into Allie’s side and Allie raised one hand in a solemn goodbye.

“Tomorrow,” Allie called after her. “Bright and early. Sweet dreams.”

Bea smiled and waved until, reluctantly, she entered into the doorway and could see them no more.

⁂

“I can take that for you, if you like,” said an unfamiliar voice. 

Allie stopped and swivelled her head round, having just shouldered Bea’s bag and made the first few reluctant steps back towards the car. It was the woman from the halfway house, smiling a little uncertainly and holding out one hand.

“The bag,” she explained in a diffident voice which held the trace of an American accent. “I can make sure she gets it tonight, once the screws are gone.” Allie smiled. The woman had a round and friendly face, curiously unlined, a stocky figure and long grey hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“Do you work here? At the halfway house?” she asked, puzzled by the woman’s demeanour; she seemed both too timid and too irreverent to be a Department of Corrections employee.

“I’m Judy Bryant,” the woman said, still smiling and holding out her hand politely. “I’ve been appointed to look after the day to day running of the house.” She gave a breathy laugh. “Bit nervous, actually …” Allie shook her hand.

“Allie Novak,” she returned. She lifted the bag off her shoulder. “If you could make sure this gets to Bea Smith that’d be great.”

“Sure. No problem,” she replied, appearing genuinely pleased to be of help. “Come back in the morning. All the women will have quite a packed schedule tomorrow but don’t worry, we’ll fit you in some family time. Just, maybe not while it’s still dark, hey?” Allie laughed, amused that their keenness had been noted.

“Fair enough. Thanks Judy.”

“No worries.”

“C’mon Deb. Let’s go home. You look wiped out.”

⁂

Bea leaned against the rough brick of the wall. It was a cool, colourless morning with a gusty breeze that had already raised goose bumps up both arms, but she welcomed the chill. She had come outside to inhale the fresh air deep into her lungs and try to clear the woolliness from her head. It seemed incredible to be here, to be able to step outside just because she felt like it. Embarrassingly, she had asked Judy for permission, only to have her smile sympathetically. 

"You have your schedule for today," she had told her. "Beyond sticking to that nobody's gonna tell you what to do or where to be."

Bea had nodded at that, feeling a little ashamed to still be behaving like a prisoner. But Judy had laid a hand lightly on her arm and reassured her that it was normal to need some time to adjust.

"Hell, some days I'm _still_ adjusting," she had continued with a wry laugh. Bea didn't ask how long she had been out or what she had been in for, just glad that someone at the department had done the right thing for once and appointed a manager who was truly qualified to understand what the parolees might need.

Feeling the hard plastic of her tag cut uncomfortably into the flesh of her ankle, she uncrossed her legs and stood up straight. She didn't need to be reminded that she was only out for as long as she obeyed the rules, and that the tag would relay her location in real time back to the police. If she strayed out of the Melbourne area or was away from Driscoll House during curfew hours her time would be up and she would find herself back at Wentworth in a hurry. Her stomach turned over greasily at the thought. She imagined Franky and the others joshing over breakfast. Was Doreen with them? It was impossible to find out. Rule number one of her parole conditions was that she could have no contact with any convicted criminals. She could see the logic of that, but at the same time it seemed cruel, as, apart from Debbie and Allie, the only friends she had left were convicted criminals. She huffed out a humourless laugh.

Spotting Allie's old but obviously well cared for hatchback drawing up across the street, her pulse began that frantic pounding it had a habit of doing in anticipation of seeing her. _Now,_ she thought. _It begins._

⁂

Allie sat back on her haunches to catch her breath. Just then Nova streaked past, narrowly avoiding the bucket, and then Debbie padded in, hair awry, face still slack from sleep. 

"What's going on?" she asked in complaint, hyperbolically knuckling at her eyes like a character from a cartoon. "Nova was practically throwing herself at my door. And why are you down on your hands and knees washing the kitchen floor at …" She glanced at the clock. "Ugh. Five to seven in the morning?"

“Got a lot on,” Allie replied shortly, rinsing her cloth. “And I hope we can bring your mum back here at some point today. Gotta make the place shipshape …”

“Did the squeegee mop thing break?” Debbie asked, seating herself at the table with an air of weariness that would have been more fitting for an eighty-year-old veteran than a seventeen-year-old kid.

“No. This way is just more … thorough,” Allied replied warily, not wishing to alert Debbie to how nervous she actually was about Bea walking through her front door. Nova chose that moment to zoom past again. They both tracked her progress, swivelling their heads. Debbie raised an eyebrow. The cat was always sensitive to Allie’s moods and today the febrile atmosphere had got her spooked.

“You realise that mum’s not the type to check for dust on the picture rail, right?” Debbie clarified with a smug grin.

“I don’t _have_ any picture rails,” Allie deadpanned.

“But if you did, you’d be dusting them right now,” Debbie replied with certainty. Allie sighed.

“Well, it’s possible that this is more for my benefit than hers,” Allie confessed.

“Right. So is there anything I can do?” Debbie asked, apparently resigned to humouring her.

“Well … You could repatriate the colony of shoes by the front door back to your bedroom,” Allie suggested casually. Debbie got to her feet with a willingness that made Allie’s heart light. Even though Debbie knew her fears to be nonsense she was still prepared to do a little light labour to make her feel better. “And those textbooks on the coffee table surely have an actual home to go to …”

“Yeah, yeah,” Debbie muttered over her shoulder as she shuffled down the hall.

“Oh … and, Debbie?” The teenager stopped and gave her a pained look. “Does your mum like goat’s cheese?” She looked surprised.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. I think so.”

“Or, is there something else she particularly likes …” Allie asked desperately.

“No, no. Goat’s cheese is good.” Allie nodded, planning what could be thrown together pretty quickly so that, assuming Bea was able to come for dinner, she didn’t waste too much time in the kitchen. Debbie was halfway up the stairs with an armful of shoes when Allie caught up to her. “Mango or pineapple?” she asked breathlessly.

“What?”

“Which does your mum prefer? Mango or pineapple?”

“Um. Pineapple I think …”

“Okay … good. Pineapple,” Allie muttered to herself, returning to the kitchen. She glanced around and gave an internal groan. Why hadn’t she thought to repaint these tired looking walls months ago? Too late now.

⁂

Debbie flung open the passenger side door and jumped out. Bea accepted her exuberant hug gladly despite feeling slightly disappointed to see that she was wearing her school uniform. Of course. It was a Friday; she had school.

“Morning mum,” Debbie said with a chuckle. Bea grinned at her. Yes, it was certainly a novelty to be able to say that to each other.

“Morning baby. What’s the time? How long do we have?”

“Huh?”

“You have to be at school by nine ...”

“Oh. No. Allie phoned and arranged for me to go in late, so it’s more a case of how much time _you_ have.”

Bea glanced up from her daughter to see Allie stalking slowly around the car towards them. Her hair gleamed perfectly in the early light and she wore that mildly seductive smile that never failed to make Bea feel as though the bottom had just dropped out of her stomach. Hardly knowing where to put her eyes first, Bea noticed that she was wearing those tailored black trousers and the cream blouse that clung just so. It was the outfit that she had worn the very first time they had met and Bea was sure that that was no accident. Was it a message from Allie? _First time again_ , maybe? Or maybe she just knew how great she looked in it and how Bea found it impossible not to stare when she wore it. And to top off Bea’s discomposure she wore a short black jacket, the bottom of which just brushed against her wrists where she had slotted her hands partially into the hip pockets of her trousers. _Fuck, that was sexy._ She clearly meant business and already Bea’s thoughts were scrambling to climb out of the gutter.

“Hi,” Allie said quietly. Bea almost squinted at her in her puzzlement. _Allie? Shy?_ It seemed unlikely but … touching.

“Hi,” Bea replied, hearing the gravel in her voice and hating it. She suppressed the desire to clear her throat; instead drawing Allie into a hug that she hoped would reassure her. _Ah._ That feeling of Allie’s arms closing around her back, the slight droop of her head towards her shoulder. The substance of her, so soft, so warm. Her scent … Allie drew away, leaving Bea blinking in consternation.

“How’s your schedule looking?” Allie asked, all business. Now Bea did clear her throat.

“Uh … I have a thing at ten. Something about money management … And then it’s full on until five, I’m afraid.” Allie nodded. If she was disappointed she didn’t show it.

“Where do you need to be? At ten?”

“Right here. Driscoll House,” Bea told her. Allie glanced at her phone. “Better keep it local then. There’s a café just down the road that looks quite nice. How about we go there for a while? We can have you back here for ten and then I can take Deb to school.” Bea nodded her agreement. It wasn’t ideal to have their reunion in a public place but there wasn’t much choice given the time constraint they were under.

Debbie took her hand and pulled her along the pavement. “It’s not far, Mum. And you can get your first decent coffee in a while.” Bea tagged along, glancing back to see Allie following, her eyes riveted to the pavement. How Bea wished she knew what she was thinking.

⁂

_Isn’t she cold? Don’t stare. She must be cold but, given how amazing she looks, I can hardly wish she was wearing more. Every time the wind gusts, her shirt lifts up and there is that tiny glimpse of flesh where her jeans meet her hips. It makes me want to put my hands there and feel the warmth of her skin. Feel how she might tremble or twitch. Watch her face to see what she won't tell me about how it feels. Don’t stare, Allie. Don’t make it obvious. Will Bea be ready to tell Debbie soon? I must ask her. I hope so. I don't know how long I can hide it for ..._

"Coming Allie?" Debbie was holding the door open for her. She nodded and followed them into the café. It was warm, noisy and busy inside. Bea just stood there, looking beleaguered, looking like she might make a run for it at any moment. 

"Why don't you two grab that table in the corner and I'll get the drinks," Allie suggested, thinking that would be the quietest spot. Bea could sit with her back to the wall if she wanted. "What'll you have?"

"Mochachino please," Debbie replied. Bea was silent. 

"Bea?" She had folded her hands into her armpits, effectively giving herself a reassuring hug. She shrugged, eyes huge. Allie gave her arm a squeeze. "Sit down. I'll be with you in a minute."

She went and joined the end of the queue and watched Bea and Debbie find their seats. It was only right that she should leave them on their own for a bit. They must have a lot to talk about. Perhaps it would seem weird to Debbie that she was here at all. Perhaps she was wondering why she didn’t just leave them alone. After all, what was she? Just the foster carer. Practically hired help. Allie shook her head slightly to dislodge the thought. She knew she was more than that. She knew that both Bea and Debbie had relied upon her throughout this ordeal, and had to trust that they needed and wanted her still. Now that Bea was out she hoped that they could explore their feelings properly even if it meant reconfiguring this three-sided relationship slightly. But the last thing she wanted was for Debbie to feel pushed aside. She had waited so long for her mum to be released. Now ought to be their time to reconnect. Was it possible for Debbie to understand that her mum and Allie could want to share a more intimate relationship without her feeling excluded? It would require delicate handling, she thought, for everyone to come out of this feeling as though they were getting what they needed. Noticing that she was nearing the front of the queue she looked up at the blackboard behind the counter. What would Bea enjoy?

By the time Allie arrived at the table with the tray of drinks, Bea was looking a little less spooked. She unloaded the mugs and sat down, listening in to Bea and Debbie’s conversation about school. She smiled to see their body language. Shoulders turned towards each other, they unconsciously mirrored one another’s smiles and gestures. They really were amazingly alike. Allie watched Bea’s hands circle her mug for warmth. It was something she had never seen her do before and yet, eerily, it exactly matched Allie’s daydream image of her. She watched her take a sip, and then another, her face relaxing slightly as she enjoyed the sweetness and warmth of the coffee. Allie’s heart sped up as Bea looked at her and smiled.

“Is it good?” she asked her. Bea nodded.

“Tastes like Christmas,” she husked. Allie felt warmth spread through her, though whether it was from the sexiness of Bea’s voice or the idea of Christmas together, she wasn’t sure. As Bea went back to quizzing her daughter about her classes, Allie tried not to make it obvious that she was fascinated with the way Bea’s wrists disappeared into the sleeves of her shirt. It was an old linen shirt, originally black, but now faded so that it showed patches of rusty brown and even dark purple. Bea had not rolled up the sleeves, but she had neglected to fasten the cuffs so that every movement of her hands or arms gave Allie a flash of that soft skin. She sat there and visualised herself sliding her fingers inside those cuffs and smoothing her way up the insides of her arms and not stopping until she reached the tender skin of her inner elbows. A sudden pause in the conversation made her look up. Both Bea and Debbie were looking at her. She cleared her throat.

“So, uh, what else have you got on today, other than money management?” Allie asked Bea. Bea pulled a sheet of paper out her back pocket and unfolded it.

“Money management, dealing with substance abuse and addiction, a session with Dr Westfall and then a meeting with my parole officer,” Bea listed, listlessly. She rubbed at her temple with two fingers, regarding the timetable with apparent dislike.

“Headache?” Allie asked her quietly.

“A bit. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Have you drunk some water today?” Bea shook her head.

“You’re probably dehydrated,” Allie told her, beginning to stand with the intention of fetching a glass of water from the counter.

“I’ll go,” Debbie interrupted, weaving off between the tables before either of them could reply.

“What’s up?” Allie asked, giving in to temptation now that they were alone for a moment and resting her palms over Bea’s slender wrists. “Why didn’t you sleep?” Allie circled her thumbs against the delicate skin until Bea sighed, her shoulders relaxing by a good couple of centimetres, her head falling forwards until it nearly brushed against Allie’s own.

⁂

Bea didn’t know how to explain what last night had been like. She didn’t even know if she could speak lucidly now that Allie’s warm hands were finally, thankfully, relievedly on her. She watched the cuffs of her shirt move as Allie’s hands stroked beneath them, belatedly thinking to look up. Debbie was in the queue and not looking their way, and in any case, Bea cared only half as much as she ought to about her catching them. She needed Debbie to know about them though, obviously. And it would be better to tell her than have her work it out for herself. But at this moment Allie and her touch were all she could care about.

“It was too quiet,” Bea said at last, knowing Allie was waiting for an answer. “My mattress was too soft. It was all too unfamiliar. My head was too busy with questions …” She fell silent.

“What kind of questions?”

“Uh … Will I be able to get a job? Will I screw this up and get sent back to prison? Will this fucking tag ever feel less uncomfortable?” Allie flinched at that last one. “Shall I show you?” she asked, seeing Allie’s eyes dive to the region of her ankles. She shook her head.

“Maybe later.”

“Then there’s the worry of how Franky and the others will manage if Jacs decides she wants to be top dog again. And Doreen. Where the hell is she?” Bea was allowing her frustration free reign now and hoped Allie wouldn’t mind it.

“Didn’t Doreen get released with you?” Allie asked in surprise.

“She was supposed to,” Bea growled. “I’m assuming she’s still at Wentworth but I have no way of finding out what happened or if she’s okay because I’m not allowed to contact anyone.” She sighed gustily and followed it up with a rueful smile. “Sorry …”

“No, it’s fine. Perhaps that woman from the halfway house, Judy. Perhaps she would phone Wentworth for you and ask?”

“Yeah. Good idea.” Bea looked at the table for a moment whilst she gathered her courage. “And you. I was thinking about you.” She looked up to see Allie watching her intently, seeming almost afraid of what she might say next. “I was wondering what might happen if … if we were to find ourselves with a few minutes of privacy.” She felt Allie’s hands still against her wrists for a moment before the gentle motion resumed.

“Like when we were alone in medical for instance?” Allie asked. And although her tone was playful her gaze was avid, her irises darkening by the moment.

“Yeah,” Bea replied, dry mouthed; unsurprised that Allie’s thoughts so closely echoed her own. “Like that.”

“Well …” Allie was just beginning, when Bea noticed Debbie turning away from the counter with a glass in her hand. Pulling her hands back into her lap she gave Allie a look that she hoped conveyed the necessity of this along with her regret. “How about I pick you up at five?” Allie was saying, by the time Debbie arrived at the table.

“Thanks Deb,” Bea said, taking the glass from her, wondering if her face was giving anything away. She gulped thirstily at the water.

“And we can all have dinner together,” Allie blithely continued. Debbie nodded enthusiastically.

“A celebration,” she said delightedly. “And I can show you my room and everything.”

“I have to be back at Driscoll House by nine for curfew,” Bea cautioned them.

“No worries,” Allie replied. “We’ll have you back in plenty of time, Cinders.”

⁂

Allie walked behind Bea and Debbie again on the way back to the car, admiring how Bea looked in her ratty old jeans and scuffed biker-style boots. How she loved the way she moved. The dynamism of her walk, the swing of her red mane, her compactness, the way those jeans stretched and clung. Could she wait until five? She’d have to.

Back at the car, Debbie and Bea were hugging goodbye. Allie looked at her phone. Five to ten. Not much scope for anything other than a quick goodbye. She gave Bea the brief hug that was all they had time for, then got into the car. She waited until Debbie was seated next to her and had closed the door.

“Ooh. Just remembered …” she said by way of no explanation at all before flinging the door open. “Back in a sec,” she said to Debbie, taking off after Bea at a half-speed jog, trying to time it just right.

“Bea!” she called out, just as she was about to disappear inside the building. Bea stopped and turned. Allie practically barrelled into her.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Allie said, drawing her inside the porch and behind the wall, out of sight. “I just …” Bea’s eyes shone like sun-warmed acorns, understanding unfurling in their depths. “Couldn’t wait, after all,” she explained breathlessly. Bea’s arms circled around her back pulling her close, possessively. They breathed into each other’s faces for a moment, eyes roaming, then meeting, then roaming again. “I can hardly believe …” Allie began.

“If you’re gunna kiss me, you’d better get on with it,” Bea said with mock impatience. “I have about thirty seconds.” Allie laughed.

“Maybe I’d better not then. Don’t wanna rush it …” she joked. Bea groaned quietly.

“I swear, Allie, if you don’t …”

Allie silenced her the only way she could. Hands in her hair, hip to hip, legs interleaved, their mouths fitting together again at last. It was both like and unlike last time. This time Bea tasted of ginger and treacle instead of salt, and there was no hesitation, but the uprush of feeling was just as heady. Legs heavy, head almost floating off her shoulders, Allie allowed Bea to take the lead as she explored what the alchemy of their joined mouths could achieve. Her breath was almost gone, her spine was softening dangerously, but Bea’s arms held her safely even as the tip of her tongue purled along the underside of Allie's top lip and curled over her teeth obliterating everything except the endless pulse that beat inside her skull: _Bea, Bea, Bea._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously, this version of Judy is not the weirdo we have been seeing in S8. Those of you who watched the original Prisoner (Cell Block H) will recognise her as the first and best Judy Bryant. (I had already planned to use this character before I knew that the programme makers were going to use her.)I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please let me know ⬇
> 
> Hitch ❤
> 
> https://prisonercellblockh.fandom.com/wiki/Judy_Bryant


	30. “Specialty of the House”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we are made welcome.

“What are you doing here?” Allie asked upon opening the door. Bea blushed, having not until this moment thought that her early arrival might be unwelcome and suddenly aware that she was probably sweaty and dishevelled from her hasty journey.

“My parole officer was running behind and rescheduled for Monday. So I thought I’d save you the trip …”

“How’d you get here?”

“Bus. The department gave us all a Myki card,” Bea replied, suddenly thinking to try and tame her hair. Allie tsked and grabbed her hand.

“Come on inside,” she demanded, pulling her into the house and closing the door behind her. Immediately, Allie pressed herself against her, smiling, her eyes searching Bea’s face hopefully.

“Where’s Deb?” Bea croaked, her throat suddenly dry.

“Chloe’s. Some kind of boyfriend emergency from what I could gather. She said she’d be home by five …” Bea swallowed. She knew it was not yet five o’clock. And she knew what Allie was after. Since her lips were irresistible in any case, she obliged her with a measured kiss. After a moment of patience, Allie responded zealously, her hands on Bea’s hips pulling her against her own in a way that made Bea’s whole body pulse along with her heart. _Mmm,_ Bea thought _._ _With Allie in her socks and me in these boots, I might be a shade taller. And that’s a very favourable position for kissing._ When they finally separated for breath Bea could feel her smile mirroring Allie’s.

“Miss me?” she gasped, unnecessarily.

“So much,” Allie told her fervently. “I think I missed you more in one day than I usually do in a whole week.” They grinned foolishly at one another. “How’s your head now?” Allie asked with a touch of concern.

“Fine, thank you. I’d forgotten all about it,” Bea replied, wondering if it was Allie’s kisses that had made it go away.

“Do you need a nap before dinner?”

 _“A nap? No,”_ Bea replied incredulously. “What am I, eighty?”

“No! You said earlier that you hadn’t slept well last night, so I thought ...”

“Um. Well, I’m not much of a daytime napper. I’ll just make it up tonight,” Bea told her definitively.

“Okay,” Allie agreed quietly, her eyes clouding over.

“What?” Bea asked apprehensively. Allie laid her head cautiously on Bea’s shoulder. Although she did not venture to touch Bea’s bare skin, she continued to gentle her body. Through her shirt she stroked the area immediately above the waistband of her jeans, just at the back of her hips, where Bea supposed her kidneys to lie. It was not a region that she had ever considered to be especially sensitive, so the way it caused all the tiny hairs on her body to lift was strange, though not unwelcome. Fixing her joints, she forced herself to stand perfectly still against the restlessness that this sensation generated. 

“I don’t like the thought of you having to leave us and spend the night at the halfway house,” Allie said with a sigh. “And … I think we need to talk to Debbie. But I understand that you’re probably not up to it yet …” she trailed off.

“No. You’re right. We need to tell her." She paused for a moment before committing to what had been on her mind. "In fact … I think she might already know.”

“What makes you say that?” Allie asked, raising her head again to search Bea’s face.

“I’m pretty sure she’s caught me staring at you a couple of times,” Bea said with only a touch of embarrassment. “And your birthday. I asked her to get you some flowers. She chose red roses.” Allie shook her head.

“Yellow.”

“Huh?”

“They were the most beautiful _yellow_ roses,” Allie said shyly, lifting one hand self-consciously to adjust Bea’s collar. “I assumed that’s what you’d asked her to get.”

“No. I didn’t say what to get and … and when you said roses in your letter … for some reason I visualised red ones.” Allie smiled.

“That’s sweet. Romantic …”

“Actually, I don’t think red roses are the right flower for you,” Bea said, blushing to admit she’d actually given it some thought. Allie laughed delightedly.

“Oh yeah? What _are_ the right flowers for me?” she asked, her hands bunching up in the fabric of Bea's shirt.

“You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you,” Bea teased, kissing her on the tip of her nose. Allie chuckled and buried her face in Bea’s neck.

“It’s so good to have you here. I’d give you the tour but Deb’ll want to do that. Come and sit down,” Allie said. Bea struggled out of her boots and Allie entwined their fingers and led her into the lounge room. She found herself drawn into a well-lit room entirely done out in subdued tones of blue and yellow. A splayed leg mid-century style couch of textured yellow fabric took pride of place, heaped with generous cushions, and Allie led her over to it, sitting down and pulling her down beside her. “Want a drink, babe?” she asked. Bea shook her head, absorbed with taking in the art on the walls, the crammed bookcases, the photographs. Her gaze was arrested by one in particular.

“Who’s that?” she asked, though she thought she already knew the answer.

⁂

Allie had been staggered to find a flushed and breathless Bea at her door. If possible she looked even sexier and more deliciously rumpled than earlier and Allie allowed her eyes to stray from her wind-blown curls down her entire body before raising her eyes back to her worried face. With that one look Allie understood that she was panicking that she shouldn’t have arrived unannounced. So she drew her into the house and gave her a kiss that warmed her to her toes and must have left Bea in no doubt of being welcome. By the time they made it to the couch Allie was thoroughly distracted. Sitting up close to Bea and cradling her hand in her lap, she watched her looking around the room for a moment until she noticed the way that Bea’s shirt had come open at the neck. That was definitely an extra button undone than earlier. Allie knew this with certitude, because there was no way she could possibly have missed the hint of lace-edged bra that now caught her eye. The faded black shirt was familiar but that deep red, no, purple, bra was previously unseen. Even a glimpse was enough to imprint onto Allie’s mind the gorgeous, pale round of breast that showed at the top part of the cup. She looked away, not wanting to feel like a voyeur, but her body still thrummed with pleasure. _Mulberry,_ she decided. That was the name of that colour.

 _“Allie,”_ Bea said in the tone of someone who is having to repeat herself.

“Hmm?” Allie focussed on her face.

“Is that your mum?” Bea was gesturing at a photograph on the bookcase. It was a favourite one of Allie’s, showing her mum before she got sick, smiling easily, the wind whipping her hair partly across her face. Allie’s throat closed suddenly as she realised something and her eyes flooded with tears. “Oh,” Bea said with dismay and put her arms around her and pressed their cheeks together. “I’m sorry sweetheart. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“No, it’s fine,” Allie replied. “It was a long time ago.” She allowed her tears to fall and smear messily against Bea’s face. “It’s just …” She drew back so that she could look at Bea. Her brows were drawn into an expression of sorrow that Allie did her best to smooth away with a kiss to the forehead.

“Just what?” Bea asked carefully.

“I just realised that she’ll never meet you.” She paused, once more consumed by the idea. _“That’s horrible,”_ she added vehemently. “She’ll never get to see how wonderful you are and how happy you make me.”

 _“Oh._ Please don’t cry. _I_ should be the one crying because I’ll never know the woman that made you,” Bea replied, sounding desperate. Allie gave a strangled sob, half crying, half laughing at Bea’s sweetness.

“I’ll tell you all about her, in time,” she said when her breath returned. “I’m sure after a while you’ll be fed up of it …”

“No,” Bea protested. “Never.” Bea pondered the photograph again. “I already know that she was very beautiful. She passed her looks on to you, sweetheart, so she’ll be with us in that way.”

“Wow. You’re pretty good at this, babe,” Allie complimented. Bea smiled sheepishly. “Not my eyes. I get my eyes from my dad,” Allie continued, gifting Bea with a slow bat of her lashes. Bea smiled more broadly.

“But your lovely lips … they’re a carbon copy of your mum’s …” Bea said. Allie watched her eyes linger on her lips. _Yes please,_ she thought. And, as if Bea could read her mind, a kiss followed, heavy and purposeful with feeling. Pushed back into the cushions by the weight of Bea’s ardour, all Allie could do was hang on tight.

⁂

Returning to herself, Bea looked into Allie’s face. “Sorry,” she said hastily, lifting herself up. “I didn’t mean to …” Allie's face had a strangely blank, inward looking quality to it that made Bea apprehensive. Then, abruptly looking annoyed, Allie grabbed the front of Bea’s shirt and pulled her back into her former semi-recline.

“Where'd you think you’re going?” she asked hoarsely.

“I must be crushing you …” Bea explained, trying to lift herself up again. But Allie had a tight grip.

“Only in a very pleasurable way,” she said breathily. Belatedly, Bea noticed how pink Allie’s cheeks were and how quickly her chest was rising and falling.

 _“Oh,”_ Bea said. The consciousness of Allie’s state of arousal caused an answering pulse in her own body that was like nothing she had ever felt before. She swallowed hard and placed her mouth gently against Allie’s, this time moving her lips and tongue very slightly, and gently and slowly. Astonishingly, this was just as exciting as the more forceful kisses they had just shared. A hot line of arousal that began in her fluttering stomach inched upwards under her sternum to her heart making it pound and leap crazily. _No wonder the heart is considered to be the seat of love,_ Bea thought, as, oxygen starved, she separated their lips. Allie’s eyes were closed and an enormous smile now spread across her face.

“I knew it," she pronounced with an air of complacence. 

"Knew what?" Bea asked distractedly, placing small kisses against her closed lids.

"That you were _the_ _one_ , obviously ..." she replied, blinking her eyes open innocently. Bea laughed. 

"You got that from the kissing did you?"

"Yes. I knew it from the very first time you kissed me. But it never hurts to make sure," she added, kissing her again. Bea revelled in the sensation of another thrill weaving through her body. Now that they were together she felt like going without kissing Allie for more than five minutes would be a major hardship. How had she managed without this for so long? How would she manage now, in the street or any public place; in front of Debbie?

“We need to talk to Debbie,” Bea said when she was able to speak again. “Tonight, if possible.” Allie’s eyebrows shot up and, at the same moment, a warm, determined bundle landed in Bea’s lap, making her startle.

⁂

“Are you sure?” Allie asked, attempting to ignore the cat. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

“I’m sure,” Bea replied. “The sooner the better …”

Allie watched Nova plant her front paws proprietorially on Bea’s chest as though she was a fortress she had just laid siege to and conquered. _Ridiculous animal._ Bea raised her hand and allowed the cat to sniff at her before giving her a stroke. Immediately Nova’s high-powered purr started up. And, after butting her face against Bea’s hand a few times, she turned around twice before settling herself on her thighs and tucking in her paws as though she had never sat in any other lap in her life. _So, that’s how it is, is it?_ Allie thought to herself. _Who feeds you and takes you to the vet, you little traitor?_

“Are you okay to do it?” Allie asked tentatively. “Or do you want me to …”

“No, no, I should do it. But … if you stay with me when I do, that would really help.”

“Of course,” Allie replied. “And maybe you’re right. Maybe she already knows.”

“Maybe,” Bea said, and Allie could hear an abundance of fear in that one word.

“Either way … she’s a modern girl. I think she’ll be okay with it. She didn’t bat an eyelash when I told her _I_ was a lesbian.”

“Hmm. Not really the same thing though, Allie …”

“No, I suppose not,” Allie replied faintly, searching for the right words that would reassure. “Hey, maybe she’ll think you’re really brave. Which you are. Or even _super cool._ People sometimes make that mistake - they think that us gays are more _exotic_ just by virtue of not being straight …”

“Debbie would never think I was exotic. I’m just her boring old mum.”

“Well, she’s wrong. You’re neither boring nor old and if I have to finally trounce her at Monopoly to make her admit it, then I will.”

 _“Monopoly!_ No one could ever accuse _you_ of being exotic _,_ my love …” Bea teased. And before Allie had time to even interpret, never mind enjoy, that significant sounding endearment, the rattle of a key in the front door let her know that Debbie was home. She straightened up a little.

“Here comes your little girl now …” Allie said uneasily. Her heart pounded with panic. What if Debbie took it badly? What would that mean for her and Bea? If it came down to choosing between them, Allie had no illusions about how that would go. Not that she would have it any other way. Bea grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

“Relax, sweetheart,” she murmured with a sympathetic glance. “I’m not gunna tell her right this second …”

“Mum! You’re here!” Debbie cried in delight. Bea twisted her body round to greet her, the cat leapt off and then Bea stood up and they were both talking at once and hugging. Allie took a couple of steps back.

⁂

Allie had retreated to the kitchen, explaining that she had food preparation to do. Bea was certain that that was just a ploy to allow them some time alone together but was happy enough to go along with it. Debbie was chatting a mile a minute as she led her up the stairs to show her her room. The house was fiendishly clean and tidy, she noticed as they went. She hoped Allie didn’t have some kind of compulsion … She came to a sudden stop at the top of the stairs. A full-stop. Debbie tugged on her arm and then came back to see what she was looking at.

“Oh, yeah. Look familiar?” she asked gleefully.

“These are exactly the same ones that I have …” Bea said in stupefaction.

“I know! Every time Allie did a print for you she did one for us as well.”

Bea just stared. The photos looked a little different neatly arranged in one of those frames that allow for multiple prints, but they were indeed the exact same pictures that Allie had sent her through the post and that Bea had spent the last several months staring at. Debbie and the cat, Debbie playing her trumpet, Allie in the hammock and so on. Even the ridiculous one of her childish child with ice cream down her face, taken on her birthday.

“I’m surprised you let her put that one up,” Bea said, pointing.

 _“I know,”_ Debbie replied vehemently. “But Allie insisted, and … I kind of like it now.” Bea was impressed. In the past Debbie had always been very self-conscious about any photos that she considered to be less than ideal and had demanded that they be deleted or destroyed. She supposed that it shouldn’t come as a surprise that, whilst Bea had been away, her daughter, with Allie’s help, had been maturing. And as much as she hated the idea that she had missed out on seeing it, she still rejoiced at the idea that her daughter’s natural development had not been stymied. All, she trusted, had progressed as it should have despite Bea’s actions and inactions. Deliberately she turned her mind away from that. Now was not the time to dwell on that. She would rather focus on the positives: her daughter was happy and healthy and they were together again.

Once Bea had been shown the upstairs, including a glimpse into Allie’s room that made her feel like a trespasser, they headed back downstairs to see the kitchen and backyard. Allie was bustling in the kitchen making all kinds of delicious smells. She winked at Bea as Debbie led her through the kitchen and slid open the patio door.

 _“Shoes,_ Debbie …” Allie called.

“They’re all upstairs, _remember …_ ” Debbie protested. And she heedlessly padded outside in her clean white socks.

 _“Deb_ …” Bea said, warningly. Debbie sighed and relented.

“Is this how it’s gunna be now?” she grumbled, passing through the kitchen on her way to her bedroom. “Ganging up on me …”

“Yep,” Bea and Allie replied in unison. Their eyes met, they both released a burst of laughter, and Bea was surprised by an unexpected surge of feeling. Contentment, was it? Belonging, perhaps.

“This is gunna be so much fun,” Allie said, eyes sparkling.

Later, sitting at the kitchen table, Bea eyed Allie with admiration, in awe of her neat table manners. She took some pains to attempt to moderate her own greed and eat tidily, all the while keeping Debbie in her peripheral vision to make sure she wasn’t gobbling too messily. Astonishingly, her daughter’s table manners seemed to have taken a turn for the better as well. _Shit,_ she thought, _Allie is obviously great at this mothering thing. Debbie would have been better off with her from the start._ The unwelcome thought was enough to make her appetite abandon her abruptly. She laid her knife and fork down gently and gave a moment’s concentration to quieting her suddenly roiling stomach.

“Is it okay?” Allie asked. Bea hated the apprehension in her voice.

“Totally delicious,” Bea replied, picking up her cutlery and resuming eating with a gusto she no longer quite felt. But it _was_ delicious. She bit into a thick slice of crisply toasted sourdough that could not even be considered as belonging to the same food group as the pappy bread they served at Wentworth. Tart, grilled goat’s cheese, sweetly caramelised fried apple slices, wilted, savoury greens and juicy tomatoes completed the feast. And it _was_ a feast, she reflected. This one meal alone probably contained more nutrients than she had ingested during the past nine months. She watched as Allie speared a piece of apple with her fork and popped it into her mouth. Lips slicked with butter, an expression of rapture transformed her face. Bea swallowed dryly to see the naked enjoyment in her eyes; she was clearly someone who delighted in the sensual pleasures that life provided. But that was something that she had hardly kept a secret. 

"So, Deb,” Bea began, determined to be a well-adjusted adult and just say what had to be said despite her fear. “There's something I need to talk to you about." Allie froze mid-chew, eyes widening.

"Is it something serious?" Debbie asked warily. 

"It's something _important_ ," Bea qualified, attempting to swallow the nervous quaver in her voice. 

"Relax Mum. I know what you're gunna say," Debbie replied with a smile. 

"Yeah?" Bea asked, feeling almost ashamed to be so relieved that she wouldn't have to spell it out.

“Yeah. And you don’t need to worry.” She paused. “I’m thinking maybe Swinburne or Canberra. Wollongong at the absolute furthest. USC looks great, but I don’t wanna be that far away _now you’re out_ …” she reached over and gave Bea’s hand a squeeze, an expression of sweet concern on her face. Bea’s heart froze in shock.

“Oh …” she murmured, collecting herself. Allie looked similarly nonplussed. “That’s great, Deb …” She took a closer look at her daughter’s face. What was with the peculiar stress she had put on those words? Was that a gleam of amusement in her eyes? Sceptical now, Bea cut her eyes at her. Debbie choked and then burst out laughing.

“Mum! You should have seen your face!” Tears were actually rolling down her cheeks now. Allie was smiling and shaking her head.

 _“Deb!”_ Bea protested. _“Why’d you do that?”_ She grabbed her head in a fierce hug whilst tickling her ribs, just like when she was six. Debbie squealed and thrashed, eventually breaking away, still laughing.

“I couldn’t resist interfering with your big announcement,” she gasped, wiping her face and starting to calm down. “Sorry,” she said unapologetically. She waved one hand. “Go ahead …”

“It seems like you already know what I was going to say,” Bea began wryly.

“About you and Allie _gettin’ it onnn?”_ she asked with a peculiar little upper body dance. Bea blushed and opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came to her. She looked at Allie helplessly but Allie just laughed and shrugged.

“I wouldn’t have put it exactly like that,” Bea eventually conceded. “But, yes. Allie and I …”

“... Are both monkishly celibate, have the hots for each other and will be totally cute together,” Debbie supplied. “You have my blessing,” she intoned melodramatically, standing up and kissing first Bea and then Allie on the forehead. She sketched some kind of cross in the air. Bea couldn’t help but grin broadly both at Debbie’s clowning and at her theatrical endorsement of their relationship. “And now,” Debbie continued in the same tone. “I will leave you alone for a few minutes to _process_ …” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and continued in her ordinary voice, “And anyway, I need to talk to Chloe and see what’s up …” Already absorbed by her screen she headed off to her room.

Bea blew out a relieved breath and looked at Allie. “That was …”

“Different?” Allie suggested. Bea nodded. Allie reached for her hand and pulled her over until Bea had no choice but to drop into her lap. She felt a little ridiculous, perched there, hanging on precariously, but then Allie wrapped her up in her arms and placed her head against her chest and Bea felt safe and comfortable. “Actually, I don’t think that could have gone any better,” Allie said. “So … your heart can stop all this thrashing. Panic over …” Bea stroked her sweet-smelling hair.

“It’s not exactly _panic_ making my heart do that …” Bea clarified. Allie chuckled, reached for Bea’s chin and kissed her feelingly.

“Welcome home, babe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully there was enough kissing in that one for even the most helplessly romantic of you!  
> Thanks for sticking with and reading and commenting and kudos-ing. Hope you liked it. Hitch ❤


	31. "Out There – Darkness"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the day draws to a close.

“Crisis averted,” Debbie declared, walking back into the kitchen as she pocketed her phone. “Matt sent her a message apologising for being a total maggot, so she’s happy again. I can’t wait until she sees he’s not for real and dumps him.”

“Chloe has a boyfriend?” Bea asked from her perch on Allie’s lap. It felt so strange and new to do something like this in front of Debbie. She would gladly have slid off but Allie had sent her a look that suggested she should stay. So she stayed. Debbie’s eyes passed over them speculatively, but she didn’t comment.

“Yeah. He's good looking enough, but his personality leaves something to be desired,” Debbie replied sitting down opposite them.

“Knowing Chloe, she’s giving him a run for his money though, eh?” Bea asked, picturing the fiery child and teen who had long been Debbie’s closest friend.

“You’d think so, right? But she’s turned into a bit of a sook since she met him. Must be love … I hope you two aren’t gunna go all soppy on me …” Bea could feel herself blushing.

“Look … I’m sorry we didn’t tell you before but everything has been so uncertain for so long …” She looked at her daughter pleadingly, willing her to understand. Debbie’s face was not giving anything away. “Whilst I was inside nothing could really come of it. I didn’t want to tell you and then have to explain that it was over before it started …”

Debbie sighed heavily. “Look, I get it Mum, but you could’ve still told me. It’s not like I’m a kid anymore. I understand. After all, I have first-hand experience of someone I love being out of reach.” _Ouch._ Bea felt her head become heavy with shame.

“It was a tricky situation kiddo,” Allie began, bravely venturing into the conversation. Bea sent her a look, grateful for the intervention. “If you’d got used to the idea and then your mum had actually succeeded in making me leave her alone that might have made you want to find a new foster placement. We would have hated that.”

“Mum tried to get rid of you?” Debbie asked in surprise.

“Yeah. When she got sentenced. She thought I should stop visiting; that I shouldn’t wait that long for her. Luckily my natural charm persuaded her otherwise,” she added, nudging Bea affectionately.

“Huh. She didn’t give _me_ that option,” Debbie complained. Bea allowed herself a slight laugh.

“Sorry Deb. You’re stuck with me because, guess what, I’ll always be your mother,” Bea told her, standing up and pulling the reluctant teen into a hug.

“Fine,” Debbie huffed. “I suppose I can live with that.” Bea drew back to look at her. Debbie relented and offered a smile. “No, it’s good. I get my mum back and I still get to keep Allie as my driver.”

“Hey!” Allie protested. “I’m much more that that!” Bea and Debbie laughed. “I’m the cook and the cleaner too,” she finished lamely.

“Oh sweetheart,” Bea comforted her. “And a very good cook and cleaner you are too.”

“Speaking of which, I’ll get the dessert,” Allie said, slipping off her chair and busying herself over by the fridge.

After dessert the three of them cosied up on the couch. Nova prowled back and forth across all three laps, seemingly spoilt for choice and unable to settle.

“How come you haven’t started clocking up your hours for getting your Ps yet, Deb?” Bea asked. “It’s only a few months until you turn eighteen. Then you won’t have to rely on Allie driving you around.” Debbie and Allie exchanged a look. “What?”

“We talked about it …” Allie began.

“And I decided that I didn’t want to learn until you could teach me, Mum,” Debbie told her, for once not shrinking from the issue by making light of it.

“Really?” Bea asked. “That could’ve been a while …” she said, cocking one eyebrow.

“Yeah, well. It was like a challenge, ya know? If I was patient then I would be rewarded with you getting a short sentence. And ... ta-dah!” Bea knew that Debbie was just about the least superstitious person in the world, and so was suitably impressed by this pact that she had made with the universe.

“Hmm. I hope you’re gunna be a better student than I was at your age. When your gran taught me … Well, some weeks we hardly spoke to each other afterwards,” Bea remembered with a wry smile.

“I know. I remember you telling me. That’s why I wanted to wait and keep up the tradition of mother and daughter falling out over _mirror, signal, manoeuvre,”_ Debbie said mock seriously.

“It’s a good tradition,” Bea agreed, putting one arm around her daughter and pulling her close. “But because I’m an awesome driver I expect you will be too.”

“And I still have Allie as back-up teacher if it all goes tits up,” she said, leaning round and grinning at Allie, who laughed. Bea gasped in faux shock at her daughter’s language.

“Deborah Ann Smith!” she protested. Debbie pulled a face.

“Beatrice Erin Smith … I’ve not forgiven you yet for keeping me in the dark about your love life …”

“What gave us away, Deb?” Allie asked, leaning forward. “Was it your mum’s inappropriate staring?”

“I think it was … Actually, I think the first hint was that picture Mum drew for your birthday.”

“Really?” Bea asked. She searched her memory, trying to think what she might have put into that sketch that would make someone draw that conclusion.

“Yeah. Because you basically drew us as a family. A pretty unconventional one, but still.” Had that been in her mind when she drew that picture? Bea didn’t think so, not consciously anyway. Perhaps it was a case of automatic drawing. “And so, later that day I decided to test my hypothesis,” Debbie continued.

“How’s that?” Allie asked with trepidation in her voice.

“Well. You’ve heard of the Turing test?” Debbie asked. Bea shook her head.

“Is that the test to check if you’re human or machine?” Allie asked.

“Yes. I call my test the Freya test …” Allie sat back in her seat with a loud exhalation of disgust.

“Seriously, Deb?”

“What?” Bea asked, looking from one to the other. “What did I miss? Who’s Freya?”

“No one,” Allie replied shortly, looking annoyed. Bea smiled, certain that she’d never seen Allie so discomfited before.

“She’s this girl who works at the shelter that Kaz runs,” Debbie explained. “She’s got the hots for Allie,” she admitted to Bea in a stage whisper.

“Oh,” Bea whispered back. “What does Allie make of _her?”_ she asked, trying not to laugh.

“Allie doesn’t think of her at all,” Allie replied, eyes on the bookcase, arms folded across her chest.

Debbie continued as though Allie hadn’t spoken. “So the test asks, is Allie interested in Mum or in Freya?” Bea nodded her understanding.

“And how did she do?” she asked seriously. Allie glared at her. Bea sniggered.

“According to my observations, Freya might as well have been invisible. Ergo, my hypothesis is accepted,” Debbie said in a pompous voice. “Allie is much more interested in _you,_ Mum, than in the hot young woman I practically dropped in her lap.”

“Good to know,” Bea said, laughing and catching Allie’s eye. Allie returned her look with an almost bashful smile.

 _“Much more interested,”_ she said with heavy emphasis and a wink.

"Kind of hard on Freya, though," Bea commented with an exaggeratedly sad face. 

"She was just collateral damage to my insatiable curiosity," Debbie replied remorselessly. Bea sucked in some air sharply over her teeth. 

"Harsh, Deb. Very harsh."

"All's fair in love and whatnot," she said blithely. 

⁂

Allie pottered around in the kitchen, listening to the comforting murmur of Bea and Debbie's voices from the other room. Bea had seemed to enjoy the meal and had tucked away a decent sized wedge of pineapple Pavlova for dessert. Not as decent as Deb, of course. And now for the _pièce de résistance_. She prepared three cups, mentally putting the nicest one aside for Bea, and pulled out a small pan.

When she carried in the tray a few minutes later, Debbie was stretched out with her feet in Bea's lap. They both looked relaxed and happy and at home. It did Allie good to see it and she felt her heart swell with joy and pride.

"What's this?" Bea asked as she placed the tray carefully on the coffee table. 

"My special night time drink. It'll help you sleep," Allie replied. 

"You know I'm not allowed alcohol, right Allie?"

"Yes, Bea," she said with exaggerated patience. "Don't worry. It's not a nightcap." She passed her the cup. "Careful, it might be hot." Bea sniffed it doubtfully. 

"What is it?"

"Hot milk …" Allie began. Bea pulled a face.

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it Mum. It's lovely," Debbie put in, picking up her own cup and breathing in the steam appreciatively.

" … sugar, vanilla and a sprinkle of nutmeg," Allie concluded. "My mum used to make it for me when I was little." She watched Bea take a cautious sip, and then another. 

"That's alright, actually," she conceded. Allie smiled. Infallible, that's what her special drink was. Allie sat down as close to Bea as she could without joggling her. She picked up her own cup and sipped at her drink. She was determined to enjoy every minute, conscious that Bea would have to go back to the halfway house soon.

⁂

"I bet you're so relieved," Allie said later as she drove Bea back to the halfway house. 

"Yeah," Bea replied, hugging Allie's pillow to her chest and leaning her head back on the headrest. It was soothing to just sit there and be driven with the dark streets sliding past the windows; the store fronts and taillights slurring at the edges of her vision. "She seems fine with it, but I'll ask her again. You never know with Deb …"

"I _meant ..._ that Nova has taken to you," Allie clarified, straight-faced. "It would have been mighty awkward otherwise …" Bea laughed. 

"Good job I didn't realise I needed the cat's approval. I would've been much more nervous if I'd known."

"I mean, I love that cat. It would have been a tough choice …" Allie continued, shaking her head ruefully. "Luckily, she has great taste in women." She turned and blessed Bea with one of her brilliant smiles. Bea grinned back, face muscles straining. She watched Allie's hands on the wheel. There was something endlessly fascinating about their sure competence; Bea felt like she could watch them forever. She pulled the pillow in closer, already finding it comforting and glad that she had accepted Allie's swap.

⁂

Allie ambushed Bea on the landing outside the bathroom. 

"Your cat just tried to come to the bathroom with me," Bea complained. 

"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that. It's like a compulsion of hers to watch other people pee," Allie explained. Bea stared at her, probably wondering if that was a joke. Allie shrugged. "You get used to it," she said in a defensive tone.

"I'm not sure I _want_ to get used to it," Bea replied. She looked at Allie standing there, holding a pillow against her body. "What's with the pillow?" She asked with a cocked brow.

"It may sound weird," Allie began, "but I want you to take this with you when you go." Bea was looking at her like she was from another planet, but Allie was so sure of her reasoning that she thrust it into Bea's hands without waiting for a reply. 

"I already have a pillow," Bea said slowly, as though to someone hard of understanding. 

"Not like this one," Allie told her, suppressing a grin. "This one has been specially prepared for your comfort and consecrated by the gods of sound sleep."

"Really?" Bea asked sceptically, taking the pillow and holding it to her face. She took a deep snuff of it. "This is your pillow, isn't it?"

"Like I said, specially prepared," Allie smirked. 

"Consecrated by the gods?" Bea asked, her eyebrows doing overtime. 

"Well … spritzed with some lavender water," Allie admitted. 

"I can't take this," Bea said sadly, pushing the pillow back into Allie's body.

"Course you can," Allie said, pressing it back. "You need to get a good night's sleep."

"So do you," Bea said. Allie looked into her eyes. They were as darkly liquid and evasive as those of a shying horse.

"That's why … I'm proposing a swap. How about you give me your shirt?" Allie said crisply. Bea's head came up in surprise. 

"I beg your pardon?" she asked. But now Allie could see a glimmer of interest. 

"Give me your shirt. To sleep in. I bet it smells delicious," Allie replied, drawing out the word delicious and watching Bea shuffle her feet in a strange little undecided two-step. “If I had your shirt, I definitely wouldn’t notice the absence of my usual pillow.” When she looked at Bea again she could see the amusement in her eyes. She knew that this was a game and was deciding whether to play along.

"I'm to go back to Driscoll House in just my bra, am I?" she asked, crossing her arms across her chest as though the very thought chilled her. 

"Wear this," Allie said, and quickly pulled her jumper over her head, leaving herself in just her bra. She looked at Bea; saw her looking back; the flutter of her lids. She saw the heave of her chest, the blush on her cheeks, the tongue that moistened her lips. "You can change in the bathroom if you like," she said, giving her an out if she needed one. Bea cocked her head, considering. After a long pause she leaned the pillow up against the wall and placed the fingers of both hands against the topmost button of her shirt. "Need some help?" Allie asked, impressed by her courage.

"I think I can manage," Bea said throatily. _Was that an amused twitch of the lips?_ Once the first button was undone, she proceeded quickly down the whole of the front. She raised her head and met Allie's eyes before beginning to shrug it from her shoulders. It was decidedly more prosaic than a striptease, but Allie felt the deliberate provocation of her actions nonetheless. She swallowed hard on seeing that mulberry bra appear again, cupping the pale rounds of her breasts. Next moment her attention was arrested by the slender rib cage that tapered into the narrow, toned abdomen. Her mouth went dry and she felt tears bead up on her lower lids. This was Bea's essence distilled: slight but solid. Strong, pale, tender, perfect and yet marked by more than one reminder of her past. The longing she felt to reach out and touch was tempered by an equal desire to respect Bea's necessary boundaries. And in the next moment Bea had pulled the jumper over her head and hugged it to her, leaving Allie blinking.

"Warm," Bea commented with a hint of self-consciousness in her fleeting half smile. "Thanks." 

"You're welcome.” That loose, shaggy, black mess of a sweater looked incredible on her, especially now that Allie knew exactly what lay just beneath its surface. “I'll just put this in the bedroom for later,” she said, snagging hold of Bea’s shirt from where it lay on the carpet. “And then I guess I’d better get you back before curfew.”

⁂

“It’s raining,” Bea commented inanely into the comfortable darkness.

“Hmm,” Allie replied. “All four seasons in one day again.”

Bea listened to the rain against the car and the steady hiss the tyres made against the wet road. The sound made her feel calm and safe while at the same time electrically charged. For the first time today she felt warm enough, thanks to Allie’s jumper. Funny how she had not even noticed how chilly she was until she had pulled it on and been engulfed by its generous softness. But now, closing her eyes and listening to the rain, she felt the hairs on her body stand on end as though she was chilled. From her back the shivers ran down both her legs and then back up again. It was a response that she remembered from childhood camping trips; the sound of the rain on the canvas of the tent above her head striking up this exact sensual reaction. It was an intensely pleasurable feeling and she found that by relaxing or tensing her muscles minutely she could make those shivers continue, wiping out her worries with the immediacy of the sensation.

“We’re here, babe,” Allie said quietly. Bea turned her head without lifting it from the headrest and opened her eyes. “Did you drop off?” Allie asked.

“Not quite.”

“Quarter to nine,” Allie said, illuminating her phone for a moment to see the time. In that brief flash Bea saw again the perfection of Allie’s face in profile, and a balloon of want expanded in her chest, almost closing her throat.

“Kiss me,” she whispered, not moving, still hugging Allie’s pillow against her chest, still buckled in place by her seatbelt. For once, Allie didn’t smile. She just looked at her seriously, turned in her seat and cupped Bea’s cheek with one hand. In response the shivers chased up and down her body more wildly than before. Then Allie kissed her so tenderly, giving of herself so completely, that Bea could hardly bear it. The hairs on her head joined in with the others on her body by standing on end. Almost it felt as though her scalp was lifting away; as though every strand of hair was attached to its own tiny hot air balloon and they were tugging at their tethers, eager to be away into the sky. A broad snake of electricity uncoiled silkily in Bea's belly, and, suddenly overcome by the fierceness of her desire, she put her hand into Allie’s hair and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, pressing their mouths together hard in response to some need that she barely understood. Impatiently, she pushed the pillow out of the way and lifted Allie towards her bodily, remembering the way she had looked on the landing, standing there in just her bra, offering herself. At the time she had been too timid, but here in the electric dark she felt emboldened. Now she didn’t even hesitate to slip her hand under Allie’s hoodie and run it over the hot skin of her back. Feeling Allie tremble under her hand she continued to explore her back and then her side, finally reaching up to lightly hold one breast, elated at the way it filled her hand. Allie groaned against her mouth. Even only touching her breast through her bra, Bea could feel some previously unperceived barrier peeling away inside her mind; this felt good, this felt right. Then, abruptly, Allie squirmed out of reach.

“Sorry,” Bea said, alarmed that she might have been horribly inappropriate. She had no idea how to conduct herself in this situation. Still, seeing how Allie looked with her lips swollen and her hair mussed, she couldn’t bring herself to really regret what she had done. “I get it. It’s too early for that …” she fretted, tugging nervously at the cuffs of Allie’s jumper.

 _“No!”_ Allie disagreed vehemently. “God, no. More a case of too late than too early. Trust me, I would love nothing more than to get all hot and heavy with you ... But you have a curfew and I need you to sleep properly tonight, not be wide awake, wondering about something we started but couldn’t finish.” She looked at Bea steadily until she saw her nod. It was true that she had endured several nights of wakefulness and was feeling the effect. She sat back in her seat, closed her eyes and attempted to regain her former state of calm. She thought of warm, sweet milk; a smooth car ride through darkened streets; the sound of the rain. She thought of Debbie with her feet in her lap; Nova’s resounding purr. She thought of good food and the company of those she loved most in the world. Finally, she allowed herself to feel the full measure of her gratitude at the way that Allie had made her first night so perfect and so full of welcome. As soft lips pressed a kiss against her cheek, she smiled peacefully.

“Goodnight babe. Sleep well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I had expected to get onto the next day by now, but that will have to wait for chapter thirty-two. I hope the leisurely pace of this is not driving you all crazy.  
> Thank you for the comments and kudos on last week's chapter. I very much appreciate it.  
> I hope everyone is in good health. TC - if you are reading this please give us a sign!  
> Hitch ❤


	32. "O Youth and Beauty!”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the sun comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Thank you so much, as ever, for reading, commenting and kudosing. Knowing you are all out there makes a bleak day a little sunnier.

When had she last had a night's sleep like that one? Maybe not since she was a child. This morning had felt not like an ordinary awakening but something far more profound. As in the case of a patient coming round from a long spell in a coma, or a celluloid space traveller reviving from stasis, it seemed as if a much longer period than one night must have passed. When had she last done what she was doing now, something that approximated springing out of bed with excitement? She shook her head at herself. None of her problems had gone away but a good night’s sleep had helped to put them into perspective. Suddenly, this afternoon’s employability workshop seemed like a good idea and a positive step. But first, she had a free morning and Allie and Debbie were picking her up after breakfast. She grabbed her stuff and hurried to the bathroom.

In the kitchen she found Judy singing along to the radio and cheerfully burning bacon for those of the women who had emerged from their rooms.

“Morning, Bea!” she crowed. “Bacon?”

“Sure. Yeah. Thanks, Judy.”

“Sleep well?”

“Yeah, I did actually,” Bea told her. Judy must have caught something in her tone because she paused what she was doing to give her a closer look.

She nodded. “You _do_ look well rested. Sit down. I’ll bring it over when it’s ready.”

Bea sat. Judy sang. Bea discovered that she had a sweet voice and that the woman’s sunny mood jibed nicely with Bea’s own frame of mind this morning, so that she smiled to herself.

_“I tried to find her 'cause I can't resist her,_

_I never knew just how much I missed her,_

_Sorrow,_

_Sorrow,”_

Bea tapped her fingers along with the beat. She recognised the song as a Bowie cover of something from the sixties.

_“With your long blonde hair and your eyes of blue …”_

Abruptly, Bea was whipped back into last night’s dream as though her psyche was still attached to it by an elastic cord. It was a dream, which, until this moment, she had not consciously remembered having. She blushed hard. It was a wonder that she had slept at all, never mind slept so deeply. Perhaps it was only the depth of her sleep that had allowed her unconscious mind to disinter her desires so completely. Or perhaps it was the way that Allie had casually taken her jumper off last night, as though undressing in front of someone might be something you could choose, might be something that you would actually want to do, that had begun that cascade of imaginings. That short moment, last night, was the most of Allie’s naked body that she had ever seen, but her mind had managed to fill in all the blanks very successfully while she slept. The idea of doing any of those dream things in real life terrified Bea, but also thrilled her. And then, remembering where Allie’s hands had been and how much she had wanted them there, made a group of muscles deep inside her pelvis clench hard. Almost, she gasped out loud. She pressed her lips, and her thighs, firmly together, blushing furiously.

“Here you go,” Judy said, placing a plate in front of her. “Hope you like it crispy,” she said self-deprecatingly whilst wiping her hands on her trousers. “It’s the only way I seem … hey, d’you feel alright Bea? You look kinda hot …”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“Yeah?” she asked doubtfully. Bea nodded with finality, closing down the conversation.

“This looks great. Just the way I like it,” Bea assured her. Judy nodded and turned back to the stove.

Twenty minutes later she was pacing impatiently in front of Driscoll House. She was early again. She took some deeper, slower breaths and tried to bring herself into a calmer state of mind. When eventually she saw Allie’s small blue car coming along the road she forced herself to stand still until it drew to a stop, even though what she really wanted to do was to run towards it. That would not have saved time in any demonstrable way but would have reduced some of her excited energy. Instead she stood without moving, arms crossed over her chest, staring hard at the glare of the windscreen until both front doors opened and Allie and Debbie stepped out.

She happened to be looking at her face when Allie’s eyes alighted on her. So she saw it clearly; the moment when Allie’s face was transformed. Maybe it was not until this moment that Bea had truly believed it. But now she had seen it, there was no unknowing it. Allie’s expression totally changed. It was like watching a flower open to the sun or a leaf unfurl in a shower of rain; the thing it needed was now present and it welcomed it wholeheartedly. And that was the moment Bea knew for sure that when Allie had told her that she loved her it had been nothing but the truth. That face, beautiful enough even in repose, became something more, something above beautiful that Bea couldn’t name. And she could only now truly believe that this incredible woman was in love with her: all that kindness and good humour, all that youth and beauty made into a steel-tipped, armour-piercing projectile aimed in her direction, determined on its course. Almost she recoiled as it struck home.

But instead, she smiled. Instead, she took Allie in her arms and kissed her.

⁂

Allie almost laughed. Coming along the road she could see Bea’s impatience coming off her like steam from an overworked horse. She watched her stop pacing and saw her fold her arms across her chest and look in their direction. Clad in her jeans and boots, today she wore Allie's jumper over a black and red checked shirt, fastened to the throat. Her curly mane was tied back, showing the shorter hair around the sides of her head. And there she stood, displaying that 'fuck you' attitude that Allie always found irresistible.

When she jumped out of the car Allie couldn't help but smile. Her heart galloped and her lungs emptied to see Bea looking so fine. She had clearly had a decent night's sleep because her skin shone healthily, her eyes gleamed darkly and her cheeks seemed fuller and higher than ever. Impossible though she would have reckoned it only yesterday, her sex appeal had been dialled up a hundred percent during the night. _Would it be inappropriate to drop Debbie off at Chloe’s and just take Bea home to bed?_ She wondered. And her predicament was hardly helped by the way that Bea was looking at her: as though she was a bowl of ice cream and all that was lacking was a spoon. 

For a moment Allie occupied herself with appreciating Bea's finer points, following a trail with her eyes. Shaved sides leading to pert ears leading to angled jawline and finally, sternly bunched lips. Abruptly Bea broke into a smile and Allie was astonished to be caught up in an embrace and kissed as soundly as if they were not in the middle of the street, and as if Debbie was not standing only a couple of metres away. Helpless, she felt her blood rise and every part of her body that was in contact with Bea suddenly turned hot and liquid as though, at the moment of their bodies’ meeting, a chemical reaction began and could not be stopped.

When Bea finally put her down all she could do was smile and try to catch her breath, so it was a moment before she realised that the sound on the edge of her awareness was that of Debbie laughing and slowly clapping her hands together. She glanced over at Debbie, whose lips were quirked in a sardonic smile, and then back at a suddenly shy and blushing Bea. Allie gave her a quick kiss on the lips as a reward for her courage. 

"Morning, babe," she said through her dry throat. "Can I get that greeting every morning?" Bea gave a quiet huff of laughter and bowed her head shyly, nodding it in time to the scuff of her boot against the pavement. Allie chased her elusive gaze until she snared it with her own. "I mean it," she said fervently. "Best start to the day ever." Bea raised her head and cleared her throat. 

"Morning, Sunshine," she rasped, giving Allie another kiss, tamer this time. "I can tell you didn't miss your pillow." Allie shook her head slowly from side to side. 

"Nope. Wrapped in your shirt, I slept like a baby."

"Me too," Bea replied. Allie watched with interest as a blush spread up her throat. "Or … not _exactly_ like …"

"Morning, Mum," Debbie interrupted, her tone of voice indicating her displeasure at being ignored. "Do I get a kiss too?" Bea grinned at her before picking her up bodily and spinning her round until she squealed. She deposited her back on her feet and kissed her noisily on each cheek. 

"Morning, Deb," she said cheerfully. “How did _you_ sleep?”

“Very well, thank you mother,” Debbie replied, pointedly polite. She turned to Allie. “Can we get going now?”

“Absolutely,” Allie replied.

“Where are we going?” Bea asked, though judging from the smile on her face it didn’t really matter.

“There’s something Deb and I need to pick up from the city. You don’t mind do you?” Allie asked, suppressing a grin.

“No, of course not,” Bea replied.

“Then your chariot awaits,” Allie replied, gesturing to her beloved car.

“You’re in the back, Mum,” Debbie told her, already crossing in front of the car to take her place in the passenger seat.

“What? _No way,_ ” Bea said, sounding annoyed.

“Uh, yeah,” Debbie replied with the kind of blank faced expression that was meant to relay the obviousness of this situation. “Because _I’m_ in charge of the music.” Bea huffed, resigned, and opened the back door.

“Fine. But I get the front on the way back,” she insisted.

“Deal,” Debbie replied. “But no music.”

⁂

“Allie?” Bea said, taking pains to keep her tone as reasonable as possible. “Could I have a word?” She drew Allie away from the sales assistant.

“What’s up?” Allie asked.

“I don’t have the money for a phone, which I’m sure you already know …” she began.

“Ugh, you sound exactly like Debbie when she first came to me. And I’ll tell you what I told her …”

“No, Allie. You are not buying me a phone,” Bea said firmly. “As soon as I can I’m gunna get a job and then I will buy my own phone. In the meantime I’ll just have to manage without,” Bea concluded, happy with how resolute and logical she sounded. Wasn’t it bad enough that Allie’s life had been turned upside down for her and Debbie? That she had been through the stress of the trial and sentencing? Did she think that Bea had no dignity left? That she would just let her buy her things as though she were another fosterling that she had responsibility for? No, she was a grown woman … Allie interrupted her thoughts.

 _“You’ll_ manage without?” Allie asked. Bea recoiled from her tone and the glare in her eyes. “Don’t you think that’s a bit selfish?” Bea's stomach dropped abruptly. 

“Self ..?” Bea felt her face redden as though slapped 

“How d’ya think Deb and I’ll manage if we never know where you are or how to get hold of you?" Allie asked indignantly. “Did you think of that?”

“N …”

“We’ve got more important things to consider than your damned _pride_ yuh know …” Allie continued.

Bea held up a hand placatingly. “Allie. You’re right …”

“So, let me buy the stupid phone,” she said insistently.

“Okay.”

“You can pay me back later if you really want to,” she continued, as if Bea had not spoken.

“I said, _okay,_ ” Bea stressed.

“Oh,” Allie said, deflated. “Well. Good.” She gave Bea a doubtful look, as though expecting her to raise some more objections. Bea just shrugged and smiled.

“You’re right. Me having a phone will make your life easier,” Bea explained. “And you’re also right that I’ve been selfish …”

“No. Babe. I didn’t mean that,” Allie said, looking conscience-stricken.

“It’s true. It’s been all about me for far too long. It’s about time I found out what it is that _you_ need,” Bea said earnestly.

 _“Umm,_ ” Allie replied suggestively and made a pantomime of looking around the shop. “But I think maybe that’s a conversation for another time and place.” Bea rolled her eyes, as she tended to, but couldn’t hold back the smile that Allie’s playfulness always conjured up.

A few minutes later they were out of the shop, phone purchased, and trailing behind Debbie who wanted to “just look” at a few things. The wind had now dropped and the sun had come out, promising a proper warm spring day.

“Let’s walk on the sunny side,” Allie said, tangling her fingers in Bea’s and yanking her across the road. She yelled out to Debbie who gave an abbreviated wave in response.

“I’ll catch you up,” Debbie yelled back, disappearing into a boutique.

Allie fished a pair of glamorous sunglasses out of her bag and put them on. She turned her face up to the sunlight and smiled beatifically. Bea just looked on in awe. How was it that this movie-star beauty was here with her, holding her hand and smiling? Always smiling. _Sunshine._ It was never more appropriate than at this moment.

 _“This,_ ” Allie said emphatically.

“Huh?” Bea asked in puzzlement.

“You asked what it is that I need.” Bea nodded. “Just this. The sun on my face and you by my side. That’s all I need,” Allie said airily. 

“Huh,” Bea scoffed, despite being touched by the sentiment. “Not money, or a roof over your head ..?” she teased.

“No,” Allie replied, looking at her and swinging their joined hands as they strolled along. “I’ve lived without those things before. I reckon I could again …” Remorse twisted Bea’s gut.

 _“Shit!_ Sorry, Allie. I should think before I open my mouth …” she began.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t want to pretend it never happened. And I don’t want you to feel sorry for me either. It happened. It’s done. Sometimes we’ll have to deal with the fallout from that time, but mostly … it’s forgotten.” She looked so relaxed and well put together that Bea’s admiration surged again. She might only be twenty-eight in chronological terms, but Allie had a wisdom that seemed to have eluded Bea so far in her life. Absurdly proud, tears threatening, she squeezed Allie’s hand, and hoped it would convey all of the things she couldn’t quite say.

⁂

“You’ve got some …” Allie said, gesturing to Bea’s face. Bea lifted her hand and wiped at her cheek.

“There?”

“No. Down a bit.” Bea tried again, still missing the dab of ice cream just to one side of her mouth.

“Gone?”

“Allow me,” Allie said. And despite having a faint misgiving that Bea might be embarrassed by her actions she placed her mouth over the spot and kissed it away.

“Can’t you two behave for five minutes?” Debbie complained, materialising at her elbow. She frowned first at Allie and then at her red-cheeked mother. “Did you have ice cream without me?” she asked suspiciously.

“Absolutely not,” Allie lied smoothly.

“Mum?” Debbie asked relentlessly.

Bea grinned, giving them both away. “Just a small one …”

“We’ve been waiting for _ages,_ ” Allie said in their defence. “Your mum was about ready to keel over from hunger …” Bea spluttered indignantly. Allie raised one finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. Deb didn't need to know that the ice creams were her idea. Treating Bea was irresistible. But watching Bea devour her cone had been a special kind of torture.

The two of them had spent the last couple of hours wandering in the sunshine hand in hand, first browsing in the shop windows and then crossing Spring Street into Parliament Gardens. Allie thought she saw Bea literally swell with pleasure to finally be in an open green space surrounded by trees and the sound of falling water. They dawdled for a while, lounging on the grass like teenagers, before heading back to the diner on Exhibition Street where they had arranged to meet Debbie for lunch.

“I’m only five minutes late,” Debbie protested.

“They do great sundaes here,” Allie said hastily, gesturing at the menu in the window of the diner.

“Come on then,” Debbie said, leading the way. “What are we waiting for?”

Having chosen a booth and ordered their food, Debbie gave them an exhaustive list of all the desirable things she had seen on her shopping trip: runners, headphones, backpack … Allie tried to keep a mental note because Christmas would come around soon enough. Debbie, on her limited budget, had managed to confine herself to buying a new top and a few stationery items which she proudly displayed while they waited.

“What time does this job workshop start?” Allie asked, worried that if the food took too long Bea would be late.

“Not until two,” Bea replied. “I was kinda dreading it but … I dunno, maybe it’ll be helpful. I need to decide what I’m gunna do.”

“Aren’t you just gunna go back to hairdressing, Mum?” Debbie asked.

Bea shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t like the idea of every client looking at me in the mirror and seeing the face of that woman off the TV news … And I don’t think any employer will be looking for someone like that either. It doesn’t fit well into the salon scene,” she said jokingly. “Where did you go on holiday this year?” she said in a falsetto, mimicking a grandiose voice. “And by the way, what does it feel like to be sent to prison ..?” Bea and Debbie both laughed but Allie couldn’t join in. They might make light of it but she could still see the shadow of shame in Bea’s eyes. One day, Bea’s past might be a laughing matter, but for now she was still living it.

“Eww,” Bea said to Allie once their food had arrived. “Mayonnaise with chips? Really?”

“Umm,” Allie replied, dipping another well salted chip into her mayo and popping it into her mouth. She chewed with exaggerated enjoyment. “Delicious.” Debbie leaned over to swipe one of her own chips through Allie’s mayo.

She nodded thoughtfully. “It’s pretty good Mum. You should try it.”

Bea shook her head. “No thanks, weirdos. If I’d known you were gunna lead Deb astray like this Allie, I might have insisted she was sent to an orphanage instead.” Debbie guffawed.

“I haven’t led her astray. I’ve _broadened her horizons,_ ” Allie said grandly. Bea smiled and took another bite of her pizza. She looked relaxed and happy; Allie could almost forget that it was only yesterday that she had been so stressed to be in that crowded café. The diner was much quieter, admittedly, but Allie was still surprised by how quickly she seemed to be adapting to life on the outside. “I still can’t get her to admit that pineapple on pizzas is a good idea, though,” Allie added. Both Bea and Debbie made gagging sounds.

“That’s because it’s not,” Debbie declared.

“Terrible idea,” Bea confirmed.

“Hey!” Allie protested as Bea dabbed her pizza crust in Allie’s mayonnaise. “How is it that pizza crusts are acceptable but chips aren’t?”

Bea smiled around her mouthful. “Totally different thing.”

“Totally different,” Debbie agreed sombrely. Allie groaned theatrically, but being ganged up on by these two was just about as close to heaven as she could imagine.

⁂

“Whatever can you be thinking?” Allie asked archly a few minutes into their return journey. Bea startled and blushed. Allie had caught her staring. Debbie was in the backseat with her earbuds in, listening to whatever band she was obsessed with at the moment, and Bea had been watching Allie’s hands on the steering wheel before dropping her gaze to Allie’s lap, wondering if it would distract her if she rested her hand on her thigh. For some reason, that empty area on Allie’s left leg seemed made for her hand. Bea cleared her throat.

“Nothing,” she replied.

“Bullshit,” Allie observed mildly. Bea huffed, folded her arms over her chest and stared out of the windscreen, not sure she liked being read so easily. “Whatever it is, you can say it. Madam in the back won’t hear, and I … I wanna hear whatever’s going on that head of yours,” Allie said with one of her smiles. Bea was all for keeping her thoughts to herself but, when Allie smiled at her like that, she suddenly couldn’t see the point anymore. She waited a few seconds until Allie drew to a stop at a red light and looked at her questioningly. Then she gently laid her hand on Allie’s thigh.

“I was wondering …” she said throatily, “if this would be alright. Or if it would be too distracting while you were driving ...” Allie gave a quiet chuckle.

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it? And the answer is: distracting, but not _too_ distracting,” she confirmed. “And Bea. If you wanna touch me, just touch me. Or if you feel you need permission, ask, but don’t just sit there and suffer.”

“Suffering? Is that what I was doing?” Bea asked, arching her brows. “You need to check your ego, girl …”

“It didn’t get by me you know,” Allie said smugly, after a pause.

“What didn’t?” Bea asked, dreading the answer.

“The name you called me this morning. That was one of the three, wasn’t it?” she said triumphantly.

“Maybe …” Bea hedged. That endearment had just slipped out; she had hoped to keep Allie guessing a while longer.

“I know it was. Say it again.” Mutinously, Bea considered refusing. “Pleee-ase,” Allie begged sweetly. Bea relented with a laugh. _Not sorrow. Not suffering._

“Alright, _Sunshine._ ”

Allie beamed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you found that cheering/soothing/enjoyable. I don't know about you, but I could use something like that just now. Covid numbers are spiralling in my area at the moment. The daily infection and death figures on the evening news are more shocking every day and the authorities seem powerless to prevent this second wave. Wherever you are I hope you are safe and well. Hitch ❤
> 
> The lyrics from "Sorrow" were written by Bob Feldman, Jerry Goldstein and Richard Gottehrer. The song was first recorded by The McCoys in 1965, then by The Merseys in 1966, but the version Bea is listening to is by David Bowie from 1973. It's been playing in my head in relation to this story for months! Perhaps it'll go away now 🤞


	33. "Relative Value"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which someone takes stock of her worth and we learn that honest communication is the best policy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi Everyone. I hope you are all well and ready for another chapter.

That second Saturday after Bea was released the weather forecast for the next day was outstandingly good, so Allie suggested a trip to the beach. They were at home, clearing up after a light supper, when Allie broached the idea in what she had already ceased to think of as _her_ kitchen, but now considered _their_ kitchen. Debbie gave an excited, “Yesssssss!” Bea remained silent but Allie noticed the pursing of her lips. Something was up.

“What are you worrying about?” Allie asked, taking her hand and drawing her to one side. Bea just shook her head and turned away, busying herself with clearing away their mugs and plates. _I’m going to have to guess, am I?_ Allie thought to herself. This was standard procedure when Bea didn’t want to talk about something. “Do we need to find you some bathers?” Allie hazarded. Bea sighed, refusing to look at her.

“No. I have my old swim stuff,” she admitted as she swiped a cloth over the worktop. _So it wasn’t that._

“I have sunscreen and plenty of towels. What else will we need?” Allie mused out loud, hoping to draw out more information.

“You love the beach Mum,” Debbie chipped in. “We’ll have a great time, just like we always do.” Bea’s face softened.

“Yeah. We always had fun. Do you remember when you started Nippers, Deb?” Bea asked with a glint of amusement in her eyes.

“It’s not like you’d ever let me forget it,” Debbie replied, sounding exasperated. Allie gave her a questioning look. “I was a shy five year old …” Debbie began to explain.

“She wouldn’t join in unless I did too,” Bea told Allie. “So there’s all these little kids … and me, a grown woman, playing games on the beach,” she laughed. “I was twice the size of any of the other ‘kids’!” Allie joined in with their laughter, relieved to find that there were still plenty of happy memories to be unearthed. Not all of Debbie’s childhood had been terrible.

“I wish I could have seen it,” Allie said, looking at Bea fondly. Bea’s eyes had lost their edge and her lips were gentle now.

“It’s just _this,_ ” Bea said, finally revealing what was troubling her by dragging up her trouser leg to reveal the ugly black tag wrapped around her ankle. _Of course._ This was the first time Allie had seen it. It was bulky and made of some kind of matt black plastic that seemed to suck light in without reflecting anything back. A truly hateful piece of equipment. Still, it was partly because of this technology that the department had the confidence to allow Bea out of Wentworth, so Allie supposed she ought to be more appreciative. Glancing back to Bea’s face, Allie could see the doubt in her eyes. Without further thought, she got down on her knees and had a closer look at it, even giving it an experimental tug.

“Well, there’s no removing it,” she said lightly, “and there’s no disguising it either, so we’re just gunna have to brazen it out.”

“ _Come on,_ ” Bea said derisively. “I can’t go to the beach with _this_ on.” She gestured at the tag disgustedly.

“Worried that people will stare?” Allie asked, cocking her head in challenge.

“People _will_ stare,” Bea replied firmly. “And they’ll probably comment too.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared back.

“So?” Allie asked, getting to her feet.

“What d’yuh mean, _‘so’_ ? _So,_ a relaxing day at the beach doesn’t include getting hassled by strangers …” Bea replied, her voice climbing. Allie laid a hand on her arm and spoke quietly, keeping her eyes on Bea’s.

“Shall I let you into a secret?” she asked calmly. “It’s all in the attitude,” she continued without waiting for Bea’s reply, drawing a little closer so that their heads were almost touching. “And I know you know all about that from prison. You present that ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe, which I’ve seen you do, and people will likely steer clear. And if they don't … well, you’re not in Wentworth anymore so you can’t bash them,” she said smilingly, to Bea’s predictable eyeroll. “So you’ll just have to make like you don’t care.” Bea drew in closer still, tugging on the hem of Allie’s shirt as though she was straightening it, though Allie knew better. She let her head fall forwards and spoke into Allie’s ear.

“I think I can guess how it is that you know so much about this …” she said quietly. Allie nodded, enjoying Bea’s care and attention, though those memories had lost much of their bite.

“I got called all sorts on the street: _junkie scum, whore, fucking dyke._ Sometimes I was too wasted to care, other times I just smiled and agreed with them.” Bea circled her arms around her and pulled her close.

“Oh, _sweetheart_ …”

“And it hurt me, you know? But you can’t let them see that because that’s their only power. And I know you can handle it because it’s _nothing. Nothing_ compared to everything else you’ve already overcome.”

“I know … but still …” she looked meaningfully in Debbie's direction. Allie’s stomach plummeted. _Of course._ She didn’t want Debbie to have to witness any unpleasantness.

“And if anyone hassles you about your tag,” she said in a louder voice. “I’ll just come up and give you the biggest pash you’ve ever had and that’ll give them something else to think about.” Debbie snorted with laughter.

“Yeah,” the teen agreed enthusiastically. “That’ll make them run a mile. It always has that effect on me, anyway.”

“Hey!” Bea objected, pretending to be hurt by her words. Allie made a discreet beckoning motion to Debbie. When she came over she pulled her into their embrace and the three of them stood there swaying together, closer than close.

And it was a great success, Allie reflected, that trip to the beach. They couldn’t leave Melbourne because of Bea’s parole conditions, so they had to share St. Kilda with a few hundred other souls who were equally keen to enjoy the fine weather. But it really wasn’t a problem. They set out their towels and stripped down to their bathers, staking out a reasonable pitch for themselves. Bea had one of those two-piece suits which, unlike a conventional bikini, had a long top that met the top of her bottoms, covering her back and stomach and the few pale scars that Allie knew lay there. Still, that left all of her legs bare and her arms and shoulders too, and Allie couldn’t get enough of looking at her. The tag on her ankle was, of course, visible. Allie noticed it, especially at first, but Bea and Debbie were in such unstoppable motion, scuffing up sand and water, racing up and down, that it was pretty much a blur and it went unremarked by the other beach goers. 

She sat on her towel and watched them play. They played in the water and on the sand. They splashed, and ran and wrestled and well, _romped,_ like two overgrown puppies that have been cooped up for too long. Only now did Allie see what Debbie had been missing out on whilst her mum had been inside. She felt a pang that, no matter how she had tried, she hadn’t been able to provide this for her. Not that they hadn’t had moments of fun since Debbie had come to live with her. They had, but they had been fleeting, as though the knowledge of what had gone before and what Bea was enduring then was forever visible in the corner of Debbie’s eye, preparing to tap her on the shoulder. _What do you think you’re doing?_ that knowledge might ask. _How can you dance or laugh when your father is dead and your mother is in prison?_ But Allie knew that it was pointless to blame herself when what Debbie needed was her mother back in her life. No one else could even hope to replicate the bond that these two shared.

And there they were, reunited. You’d be forgiven for thinking that Debbie was much younger than seventeen, seeing her like that. It was as if she had briefly regressed to an earlier stage of her childhood when things seemed simpler and a day out at the beach with her mum was just that. Allie watched them and hugged her knees and smiled. This was a gift. She would never meet five-year-old Debbie for real, nor eight, ten or twelve-year-old Debbie. _How much she had missed._ But this was almost as good and she felt it as the privilege that it was.

⁂

Bea knocked on the door to Judy’s office. It was open. It was always open but Bea didn’t want to assume it was okay to just walk in. Judy swivelled in her chair.

“Oh, hi Bea. What can I do for you?” she asked in her customary light voice. Her dark eyes gleamed kindly.

“Hi. I, er … I just wondered if you knew anything about a woman who was meant to be transferred here from Wentworth?” Bea asked.

Judy shook her head. “I’m not expecting any more residents at the moment,” she said.

“No. She was supposed to come the same day as the rest of us but at the last moment she wasn’t on the bus. I thought you might know …” Judy was shaking her head, her mouth turned down in mystification.

“It’s not ringing any bells. Let me check the original paperwork though … what’s her name?”

“Doreen Anderson,” Bea said, shuffling her feet impatiently.

“Anderson … Anderson …” Judy murmured to herself as she began to hunt through a pile of disorganised looking paper stacked on her desk.

“I … er, I have a session with Dr Westfall now,” Bea said tentatively. Judy waved a hand at her.

“Go. Go. Leave it with me … Anderson ...”

“Thanks Judy.” Bea left her searching and talking to herself and headed down the passage to the room that Dr Westfall occupied on her days at the halfway house. She knocked.

“Come in!” the psychologist called out and Bea entered. This room was a little shabby and bare; nowhere near as comfortable or pleasant as the one they had met in at Wentworth, but it didn’t matter because Dr Westfall brought with her the air of professional kindness that Bea had come to rely upon, and she instantly felt reassured. Not that what they talked about was necessarily pleasant but Bea had come to know that, when the psychologist presented her with uncomfortable questions, it was for a good reason and for her own benefit, and generally led Bea to a better understanding of herself or her situation.

“Morning Bea. How are you today?” Dr Westfall asked her as she sat down.

“Good thanks,” Bea replied. And she was. How could she not be now that she was out of Wentworth and back with Debbie.

"How do you feel that you're adjusting to life on the outside?" she asked with her usual piercing gaze.

"Surprisingly easily, really," Bea told her. "The first day or so was weird. I felt like at any moment someone was gunna shout at me and bundle me back into a brawler and I'd find myself back at Wentworth," she confessed with a wry smile. "But lately … I feel like I can breathe again."

“That’s good. Is Debbie adjusting to having you around again?”

“I think so. We had a great time at the beach on Sunday. But … maybe I’m something of a novelty at the moment. We’ll have to wait and see how she takes it when I have to get serious with her about something. That job is something that got handed off to Allie for a while.” The psychologist gave her a knowing look, letting Bea know that she knew that they had now arrived at the subject that Bea really wanted to discuss: the issue that had been chafing at some inner part of her brain for days.

“And how’s it going with Allie?” she asked. Bea didn’t think she was imagining a slight curl to Dr Westfall’s lips.

“Really great. We’re seeing each other every day. I can’t imagine how I managed before, only seeing her once a week.” The doctor nodded but didn’t comment. The silence stretched out. Finally Bea blurted out, “Deb and I … we only have her, but she has a whole family … I worry that we’re taking up too much of her time.”

“How so?”

“She’s not mentioned her family the whole time since I’ve been out, and … I don't know, I don’t think she’s _seen_ them either.”

“Why do you think that is?” Dr Westfall asked neutrally.

Bea choked out her explanation. “I think … maybe she doesn’t want them to meet me. Either she's really ashamed of me or she’s worried that they’re gunna say that I’m not good enough for her and tell her that she should move on …” Dr Westfall breathed out heavily through her nose.

“Okay. I think we need to unpack that a little bit.” Bea tensed herself for the doctor’s judgement. “You told me weeks ago that Allie told you that she loves you, correct?” Bea squeezed her hands together between her knees and nodded. “Do you still think that that’s true?” the psychologist asked with a narrowing of her eyes. Bea nodded emphatically.

“Yeah,” she breathed. “It’s true …” Her heart bounded once more at the knowledge and her lips tugged themselves into a smile.

“Do you think it’s possible that she could love you and be ashamed of you at the same time?” Bea gave that some thought. Maybe love could make you overlook quite a few character flaws. “Do you think she values her family members more than you?” Dr Westfall continued. Well, there was the blood tie to consider.

Bea shrugged helplessly. “Maybe …”

Dr Westfall regarded her steadily. “How about we come at it from a different angle?” she asked rhetorically. “How long is it since you were released from Wentworth?”

“About ten days.”

“And … would you say that you’ve had a lot to deal with since then?”

“Sure,” Bea replied easily. “Lots of mandatory sessions to attend. Chores to do here. Job searches.”

“On top of which you’ve been adjusting to life on the outside.” Bea nodded. “Reconnecting with your daughter. Only now _really_ beginning your relationship with Allie …”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“And, do you get nervous when you think about meeting Allie’s family?”

“Yeah, of course.” The idea made Bea’s stomach lose its sense of gravity for a moment.

“So. Thinking about all of that, could there be a more _likely_ explanation for why Allie hasn’t suggested that you meet her family?” Bea flushed hotly as Dr Westfall's point hit home.

“Because she thinks I’ve got enough on already,” she said in a flat voice, like a pupil caught out by an observant teacher. Dr Westfall nodded.

“Does that seem more in keeping with Allie’s character? That she’s trying to protect you rather than that she’s ashamed of you?” Bea nodded miserably. How could she have ascribed such a low motive to Allie, knowing how generous and thoughtful she always was?

“Yeah, I …” Bea puffed out an annoyed breath, firmly quashing the impulse to relieve her frustration by getting up and moving about. “I don’t know why I couldn’t see that before. Am I always going to be like this? At odds with how things really are?” The psychologist smiled and shook her head.

“No, Bea. You’re making good progress. I know it seems slow but you’ve come such a long way since the first time we met. And you remember how we’ve been talking about self-esteem?” Bea nodded. “This worry about how Allie or her family might see you is not really about them at all. It’s about how you see yourself. You’re projecting your own low self-worth onto them.” Bea could feel tears pricking at her eyes but she wouldn't let them fall. She knew that her issues with self-esteem were largely a by-product of living with Harry and his put-downs for all those years. She straightened her spine. She wanted to solve this. For Debbie, so that she could be proud of her mum’s pride in herself. And be encouraged to have a strong belief in her own self-worth. And for Allie. To avoid this kind of misunderstanding in the future. And so that when Allie complimented her she would be able to find some better response than an uncomfortable squirm or a change of subject.

“So what can I do about it?” Bea asked. Dr Westfall smiled broadly.

“I have a couple of ideas for you. First of all, a journal. It can be very helpful to write down what makes you happy and what you value. Also, you can write down things that you like about yourself and positive things that other people say about you. I’m very pleased that you’re being proactive about your self-esteem, Bea. You could write that down, and any other compliments that you receive. Then, when you doubt yourself, you can read them and remember that there are lots of reasons to feel good about yourself.”

“Okay,” Bea agreed, sure that it couldn’t be as simple as that, but prepared to give it a chance.

“And secondly, you should write your CV. Not only will you need one in any case, but it’ll help you see your own value. _Your_ experience, _your_ skills and why an employer might want to hire you.” Bea privately doubted that the employer existed who would want to hire her, but she nodded anyway. Having an up-to-date CV could do no harm.

“And finally, I think you should talk to Allie about how this whole issue of her family made you feel.” Dr Westfall looked stern as she said this, as though suspecting that this would be the least favourite part of her homework assignment. Bea’s shoulders slumped at the idea. “I mean it,” she said. “You two clearly need to work on your communication.” Bea sighed but couldn’t disagree. “Okay. Next session … Monday at ten …”

“Before I go,” Bea said, nervous, but determined to get this done. “I just wanted to tell you how much I wish I could let Franky and the others know that I’m okay. That I’m doing fine …” She risked a look at Dr Westfall’s face. Her eyes had widened in surprise: she knew as well as Bea did that communication between a parolee and the inmates of Wentworth was forbidden. Bea hoped that by using this vague wording she could persuade the psychologist to pass the message on when she next saw Franky.

“I’m sure they would be pleased to hear that,” Dr Westfall replied carefully. “It must be hard on you, not seeing your friends …” Bea nodded, unable to tell if she would pass on the message or not. “I expect they miss you too.” Bea’s head shot up just in time to see a gleam in her eyes. And she just like that she knew that those words had come straight from Franky. She grinned hard.

“I hope that they’re all staying safe,” Bea added. “And not taking any unnecessary risks.” Dr Westfall nodded. “I can’t wait until they’re paroled too.”

“Amen to that,” Dr Westfall added. Bea couldn’t help the surge of sympathy that overtook her as she recognised the ache in her voice.

⁂

The best part of every day was these few minutes in the car. As they drove, the closer they got to Driscoll House, the more Allie noticed Bea’s eyes flickering towards her. The moment they pulled to a stop they were already turning to each other and seconds later their mouths had joined with a sigh of long awaited satisfaction. Bea was an enthusiastic kisser and had quickly become attuned to what Allie liked. Sometimes she would reach under Allie’s clothes and touch her bare skin or her bra covered breasts. These kisses and touches had Allie in such a state of excitement that she felt as though all she wanted was to crawl out of her own skin and into Bea’s. But Bea didn’t take things further than that and the one time that Allie had touched Bea’s breast she had nearly jumped out of her skin. Allie had immediately back-tracked to safer territory, and, really, despite the crippling sexual frustration, she couldn’t complain, because she got to hold the love of her life in arms and kiss her and be kissed by her _every day._ It was an almost unimaginable luxury after the constraints they had been living under. So when Bea abruptly drew back out of her reach she, for a moment, assumed she must have crossed some invisible line.

“Sorry …” she said, breathing hard. Bea licked her lips and shook her head, also out of breath.

“No. There’s something I’ve got to talk to you about …”

“Oh. Okay,” Allie replied, trying to bring her brain back on-line.

“It’s, uh … something I was getting into with Dr Westfall today.” Allie nodded. Bea looked scared half to death so she reached out and took one of her hands in both of hers and held it and stroked it until she saw Bea’s eyes lose that edge of panic. She nodded at her to indicate she was ready to hear whatever terrible memory had been unearthed from her subconscious.

“Just say it,” she encouraged her, sounding more confident than she felt.

“Sorry … but I told Dr Westfall that I thought you were ashamed of me because you hadn’t mentioned me meeting your family,” she said in a rush. Allie was so surprised that she almost laughed. But she wasn’t given even a moment to explain before Bea was providing that explanation for her. “I realise now that you were only trying to protect me from the extra stress …” Allie nodded.

“Of course! I just thought it was too soon ... ”

“Yeah. And I was an idiot not to see that from the beginning …”

“Oh, babe. Maybe I should have said …”

“Dr Westfall said we need to work on our communication,” Bea said with an eyeroll. Allie laughed.

“She’s probably right.”

“And I _am_ scared to meet your family.”

“Understandably.”

“But I _do_ want to meet them.”

“Yeah.” Allie thought for a moment. “We’ll have to think about what’s the best and least stressful way to do that. And, you know, you really don’t need to be scared. They’re gunna love you. They won’t give you a hard time.” Bea nodded at her lap before raising her eyes to Allie’s.

“I’m writing a CV,” she said shyly, her eyes gleaming with hope.

“Yeah?” Allie asked, pride over-topping her already full heart. “How’s it going?” Bea shrugged.

“Better than I thought. It’s for my self-esteem,” she explained with an ironic glance. “Judy’s been helping me. It turns out I have more skills than I realised.”

“I’m sure you do,” Allie said suggestively. “I hope you’ve put down ‘best kisser in the state of Victoria’” she said, biting her bottom lip. Bea laughed and gave her a shove.

 _“Shut up!”_ she said, and then added, “Anyway, what do you mean, _best in Victoria?_ ”

“Sorry, but I don’t have enough data for a national comparison,” Allie retorted with a straight face, unable to resist.

“And don’t you dare go looking for it,” Bea replied, folding her arms across her chest in feigned jealousy.

Allie laughed before sobering up and meeting Bea’s eyes seriously. “But I mean it,” she said, drawing a cross over her heart with one finger. _“Best. Kisser. Ever.”_ Bea scoffed but leaned in closer.

“I should probably keep practising if I want to retain my title,” she husked. Allie just had time to nod once before Bea’s mouth was on hers again and her heart staggered into a faster pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments welcome 😁  
> Looks like Bonfire Night is going to be something of a damp squib here in the UK owing to the national lockdown, but happy Guy Fawkes night anyway.  
> Those of you in the US: hang tight, keep the faith.  
> Hitch ❤


	34. "Dry Run"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which thoughts turn carnal and not everyone remains dry.

Bea forced herself to overcome her dread and picked up the notebook that Judy had found for her. She threw herself down on the bed, pen in hand, and began to write.

**Thur 16/10/14**

**So, do I write “Dear diary” or what? I’ve never written a journal before and I never thought I would want to either. But Dr Westfall says I should write down some positives about myself, so here goes.**

Now there was a long pause for thought. Nothing was coming to her. With distaste she regarded her untidy writing sprawled messily across the unlined page. She couldn’t think of a single thing to write and couldn’t even claim to have neat handwriting. She tapped the end of the pen against the page and rolled over onto her stomach. Scooting up the bed she rested her head on the pillow and breathed in deeply. Allie had provided her with a “freshly consecrated” pillowcase only yesterday. As usual it smelled intoxicatingly of Allie. She smiled helplessly into the crisp cotton, burrowing her face into it, allowing herself the pleasure of thinking of Allie. Turning onto her side she began to write the first things that came into her mind. 

  1. **A says that I am the best kisser in the whole of Victoria.**
  2. **When we were at the beach on Sunday she couldn’t stop staring at me.**
  3. **A says I make the best lasagne. Even better than her mum did.**
  4. **Apparently even my “bored” face is cute.**
  5. **~~And she can’t help but squeeze my arse when~~**



Somehow she doubted that this is what the doc had in mind when she asked her to write down her good points.

**I think I am doing a good job of teaching D to drive. We have had two lessons now and, not only could I remember how to drive after all this time, but I kept my temper through both. I was extra patient when giving her instructions and I don’t think she even heard my gasp of fright when she changed lanes without warning.**

**And I have also been very patient with A and Ds choices of films on Saturdays. These black and white or foreign language films are very trying. (Hence the “bored” face.)**

**I have managed to take some of the domestic chores out of A's hands to give her more time for her work, which I’m sure she must have been neglecting. Most days I manage to get over to hers in time to cook the evening meal.**

**I am trying hard not to keep things to myself so much. I did what Dr Westfall suggested and talked to A about worrying about meeting her family, even though it was hard.**

Bea rolled over onto her back and stared at the ceiling. Communicating her feelings was the hardest thing. First of all she had to examine her own reaction to things and work out what emotion was causing it. If she could manage that, then she had to brave the fear of showing it or telling it to another person, confronting the almost paralysing fear that they would laugh or turn away. The doc called it “being vulnerable”. She still hadn’t mastered that. It was another delightful inheritance from her years with Harry. 

But it was Allie who was giving her the courage to begin to blurt out these difficult things. Finally there was someone in her life who she thought she could trust with her feelings. Suddenly, whatever was on her mind didn’t seem like such a big secret anymore. Allie always wanted to know what she was thinking and always acted like it was interesting, even fascinating. Like, did she prefer chocolate or strawberry ice cream? She would wait for the answer as if it might be the most important piece of information in the world. And when Bea replied, there were then a series of eager follow up questions until Allie finally looked satisfied, as though Bea had given her the key to something. Not that Bea had managed to be as open about some subjects as she was about ice cream flavours.

She had wanted to tell Allie how incredible she looked when they went to the beach. Allie had shown up wearing short shorts and a Breton striped tee, making her look so full of youth and good health it was almost blinding. For a while it made Bea's stomach turn leaden in despair, sure that once Allie noticed how old and tired she looked in comparison she would drop her like a hot potato. Instead, Allie's eyes had glowed as she watched Bea awkwardly squirm out of her clothes to reveal her swimsuit. Almost at once, Debbie tried to get Allie to go for a swim or join her in a race, but Allie was unusually quiet. She just shook her head and seemed only to want to watch them play. It took Bea crashing down onto her towel, cold and dripping from the ocean, to persuade her to strip off her now damp clothes and reveal her small black bikini. It was no surprise to find that Allie was shapely and flawless when almost naked but still Bea was shocked at how much she wanted to look. And look. Such long, long legs, such a tiny, neat navel in her flat stomach. And then there was the perfect ratio between her hips and her waist. When, eventually, Bea's eyes made it to her bikini top, she had to take her hand and lead her into the water. She had never been interested in another woman’s breasts before, and still wasn’t really, Allie’s being the only ones that provoked this desire to stare, maybe even to reach out and touch. It was no easier once they were submerged up to their necks. Now instead of staring at her body Bea couldn't stop looking at Allie's eyes and how the light reflecting off the water made them sparkle even more seductively than usual. She ached to circle her arm around her waist and touch their chilled skin together but her courage failed her. Instead she settled for behaving like a delirious teenager, splashing around, diving under the water and attempting to impress Allie with handstands and stupid stunts. And all the time Allie just smiled at her, showing those perfect white teeth, and maintained the respectful distance that was beginning to drive Bea crazy.

When had that happened? When had her boundaries moved? Instead of being shyly flushed and ridiculously nervous, she was now almost bursting with the desire to tell Allie what she wanted. That she had liked it when she had touched her that time. That the only reason she had jumped when she had put her hand up her shirt was out of surprise. That she wanted Allie to do it again … and whatever came after that. But how could she ever say so? She could stand there and think the words but thinking never actually translated into opening her mouth and speaking. All the same, she knew she was ready for more of the wonderful touching and kissing that made her feel so good. _Good._ What a terrible description for how Allie’s touch made her feel. _Electrified. Helium filled. Incandescent._ That was closer but still inadequate.

**To do list:**

  1. **Let A know I am ready.** ****



⁂

Allie smiled to herself as she worked. It was new and wonderful for her to sit upstairs at the small desk in the corner of her bedroom and listen to the woman she loved clattering around in the kitchen. Bea’s schedule seemed to have settled down a bit now so that her availability was a little more predictable. Knowing how Bea had missed cooking for Debbie when she was in prison, she did her best to keep the fridge and cupboards stocked with the ingredients she would need to make some of those favourite meals. It gave her such a sense of wellbeing to sit down with the two of them to a home cooked meal and listen to, and join in with, the to-and-fro and bickering of a family dinner.

The sound of smashing crockery and a muffled curse brought her to her feet. She skipped down the stairs, planning on checking if Bea was alright, knowing that it was actually an excuse to see her and maybe give her a little kiss.

She found Bea emptying a dustpan of shards into the kitchen bin.

"I am _so_ sorry Allie," she began. Allie just smiled. But then she noticed how Bea's hands trembled and how pale her lips were. _Harry_. As quickly as she could she crossed the room and took her in her arms.

"Babe, I don't care about the _stupid plate_ ," she whispered into her curls, kissing her on the side of the head. "I just wanted to check that you hadn't cut yourself." Bea burrowed her face into her neck and mumbled something. "Hmm?"

"Stupid _bowl_ , not plate."

"Whatever." Allie cradled her head in her hands and looked at her. Bea wouldn't meet her eyes but Allie kissed her lightly on each cheek before gently placing her lips against Bea's and waiting. After just a moment she felt her relax in her arms, press her body into Allie's and part her lips. Allie took full advantage, kissing her comprehensively, feeling her passion rising, bowing Bea's whole body back, knowing that she could feel it too. When she drew back they were both breathing like they'd run a race; Bea even glowing like maybe she'd _won_ a race. Allie smiled in delight to know how much she enjoyed being kissed like that.

Bea cleared her throat. "I guess you don't care about the bowl then?" She asked dryly. 

"What bowl?" Allie asked innocently and was rewarded with a throaty chuckle. "You missed a bit." Allie stooped to retrieve the triangular scrap of pottery from under the kitchen table. "Ah! Shit," she groaned, cracking her head on the table as she stood back up.

"Ooh, sweetheart," Bea cooed. "You gotta be more careful!" Bea rubbed the bump on the back of her head. Allie knew she had done a good job so far of disguising her true clumsiness from Bea, but accidents like this were always happening to her and she supposed it was only a matter of time before Bea recognised this as one of her faults. 

"I'm fine," she replied through her embarrassment. But by now Bea was playfully kissing the bump and then her head more generally, the kisses getting louder and more emphatic every second. Soon Allie was giggling and squirming and her embarrassment was forgotten. And then Bea’s playfulness was suddenly abandoned and she was kissing Allie in earnest, backing her up against the fridge, her fingers tugging at her shirt to untuck it. Allie held on to the back of Bea’s neck as to a rock in a storm and allowed the surge of passion to overtake her. The sensation of Bea’s cool hands on the warm skin of her back made her shiver but her body soon gave in to a heavy pulsing as Bea’s tongue slipped into her mouth and her thoughts were replaced by a desperate need for this wonderful feeling to continue.

“I need to talk to you … about something,” Bea panted a moment later, removing her mouth from Allie’s. Allie almost groaned in despair. _Why stop? That felt so amazing._ She swallowed and attempted to compose herself. Bea looked serious now and Allie had a strong foreboding that this would once more be about meeting her family. Again she felt like groaning. Bea no longer looked pale after her mishap with the bowl but Allie could still feel the tremors running through her and, wanting only to gentle her, stroked her hand carefully over her hair.

Allie nodded but replied, "Why don't you let me do something for you first?" Bea swallowed nervously. 

"What?" she asked and Allie felt weak hearing the gravel in her voice.

With her head, Allie gestured towards the oven. "How long's that got left?"

"About fifty minutes."

"Perfect," Allie smiled. Putting her hands on Bea's hips she gently moved her to one side, opened the fridge and brought out a bottle of sparkling apple juice. "This should be champagne really," she told her. "But we'll make do." Bea just watched with her heart in her eyes as Allie reached down two flutes and poured for them. "Cheers," Allie said. She couldn't decide if Bea looked more worried or excited, but she obediently tapped her glass against Allie's and took a sip. "Now. You sit on the couch for a minute … I'll be right back …"

" _Allieee_ ," Bea protested. "Where are you going?" she asked, reaching for her. 

"I'll be right back," Allie repeated patiently. "And then you'll see."

⁂

The outer, rational layer of her mind knew that breaking one of Allie's bowls was not likely to be a problem. Unfortunately, some inner part of her brain had been taught that something bad was about to happen. Accordingly, her body had flooded with a dose of adrenaline that made her unusually clumsy as she swept up the pieces of broken ceramic. Allie, of course, didn’t care about the breakage and only a few moments in her arms were enough to reassure her of that. And then there was Allie’s kiss. Once more her doubts were swept away. No one but Allie could have made her feel that way; her internal voice was silenced (“ _stupid clumsy bitch_ ”) and she was suddenly brimming with confidence at the way she could make Allie feel and respond. And then Allie triumphed again, knocking her head on the table and looking so adorably annoyed with herself. How could Bea feel bad about that bowl now? Riding high, Bea kissed her and touched her and knew that this was the moment when she could ask for what she wanted.

But Allie seemed to have read her mind this time. _Why don’t you let me do something for you?_ she had asked. It was a something that would last approximately fifty minutes. Something that could have used the romance of champagne but that also required some preparation on Allie’s part. Bea’s heart had thumped hard. Was this how people carried on when they were about to have sex? She had envisioned something a little more spontaneous: passionate kisses, hastily discarded clothing, rumpled sheets … her mind rebelled from imagining anything more specific than that. But here she was, sitting on Allie’s couch with a glass of sparkling apple juice in her hand and Allie was … upstairs.

Until she was at her side, tugging on her hand and leading her upstairs with a small, private smile. Bea's stomach swirled in anticipation. But then they passed the bedroom door by, and entered the bathroom, Allie deftly excluding the cat with the side of her foot and closing the door behind them. Bea was stunned. Allie's small, bright bathroom was transformed into a fairy grotto by the judicious placement of candles and twinkling lights and the simple act of closing the blind. The water in the bath foamed and steamed, and Allie had created a tropical effect by bringing in the potted plants from every corner of the house. She was watching Bea's face smilingly, waiting for her reaction and Bea couldn't help but laugh in amazement at the trouble she had gone to.

"What's this for?" Bea asked.

"You," Allie replied. "I remember you saying that you missed having a bath when you were inside. Now's your chance to relax and unwind." She looked at Bea so tenderly that she couldn't help but wonder what else she was thinking. Allie sighed. "You had a fright when you dropped that plate …"

"Bowl," Bea corrected her automatically. Allie huffed impatiently. 

" _Bowl_. And I understand why. But we don’t have to talk about _him._ And I don't think we should talk about _anything_ that might worry you just now." _So that was it,_ Bea thought sadly. _She was turning her down._ "So, let's save that for later … In the meantime, why don't I help you …" And just like that Allie's fingers were grasping the hem of her t-shirt, inching it upwards. _Oh. Well ... maybe they were on the same page after all_. Bea smiled at her encouragingly and obediently raised her arms above her head. Allie's smile widened but she took her time, revealing Bea a little at a time like a child peeling back the corner of the wrapping paper to make the surprise last longer. "I could help you wash your hair," Allie said quietly as Bea's muscles jumped under her fingertips. "Give you a back rub … trim your nails …" Bea thought that last one a little strange but, by this point, her shirt was over her face and she couldn't see Allie's expression, though she suspected that she was laughing at her. 

When she emerged from behind the shroud of cotton all she could do was watch, dry mouthed, as Allie's eyes roamed over her upper body before fixing on the button of her jeans. Bea reached for her and pulled their bodies together, wishing Allie was wearing less. Allie pressed her lips against Bea's and Bea revelled in the softness of her mouth and the shiver of her hands sliding over her bare skin. An insistent buzzing took over the base of her abdomen, making her reckless. 

Pulling back from the kiss, Bea made a suggestion. "Maybe ... I should take this off …" And she fastened her fingers around the top button of Allie's shirt.

"Oh yeah?" Allie asked in challenge. 

"Yeah. In case you get splashed …"

"Um. Good point," Allie replied knowingly. "I would hate it to get …"

The front door crashed open and they both flinched. "Allie! Mum?" Debbie yelled. Bea's eyes flew to Allie's, the unspoken word hanging between them. The amused chagrin on Allie's face made Bea laugh despite her own frustration. 

"Shall I?" she offered, reaching for her t-shirt. But Allie stopped her. 

"I'll go. You enjoy your bath."

⁂

Dinner was dry and definitely on the burnt side of well done. Not that I cared about that, but Allie was unusually subdued and Mum was talking more than usual, maybe to disguise the absence, maybe just because she was oddly excited. What had been going on? I watched them thoughtfully. 

Mum was flushed and still damp from the bath. Her eyes were flitting around restlessly, but mostly they returned to Allie’s hands, watching them resting on the table, following them as she plied her cutlery. And she was talking. A lot. Which was not like her at all. She was gesturing with her hands. And she was drinking and refilling her glass frequently; if the conditions of her parole did not forbid alcohol, she would have got through a whole bottle of wine by the end of the meal.

Allie was quiet and smiling. She ate her food in a meditative way, chewing thoroughly, maybe not even tasting it. She pretended to be focussed on me as I replied to Mum’s rapid-fire questioning about the minutiae of being promoted to the track team, but I could see her trying to look at Mum out of the corners of her eyes. She too was flushed, though it could have been the hot meal causing that, but if I could have used one word to describe her it would have to be smug.

As Allie stood up to clear the plates I couldn’t help but notice the way that she bowed her head as she hovered over Mum, seemingly inhaling the scent of her damp hair. Mum’s bath. That’s what I had interrupted when I came home much earlier than planned, excited to share my news, but I suddenly knew I had interrupted something more than that. My head spun with shame as I realised what a child I had been. What with Mum’s curfew and appointments, Allie’s work and the way she always ferried me around, and my habit of being home quite a lot of the time, how were these two ever going to get any time alone? I cursed myself silently. I needed to grow up and stop being so selfish. Mum and Allie had probably had the strangest courtship on record, meeting the way they had, falling for each other and then being kept apart. Had they even found the time and the privacy to ..? That was not something I wanted to think about. I cleared my throat.

“I’m gunna have to reschedule my driving lesson on Saturday, Mum,” I said nonchalantly.

“Oh. That’s a shame.” she said. “Team practice?”

“Nah. Chloe, Matt and the others have set up a full day study session. We decided to get a head start on revising for the end of year assessments.”

“Oh, okay. That’s good …”

Allie had quietened her plate clattering and was evidently listening in with interest.

“You two should do something nice,” I suggested, straight-faced. “Make a day of it.”

“Mmm,” Mum replied noncommittally, though I saw her glance at Allie. I just hoped my mates didn’t have plans for Saturday; otherwise it would be a long day.

⁂

Bea had gone up to the bathroom at the last minute before Allie knew they must leave to get her back to the halfway house before nine, so she took the opportunity to speak to Debbie.

“Deb?”

“Yeah?” she replied, not looking up from her phone.

“I’m thinking of taking your mum for a romantic picnic on Saturday. What d’ya think?” Allie asked her, checking for any possible triggers such an outing might cause. Debbie raised her head and wrinkled her nose.

“Sure. Who doesn’t like a picnic?” she replied. Allie nodded, certain she could bring something special together before Saturday. “Alternatively …” Debbie ventured. “You could just stay here … and enjoy the time alone … just the two of you …” Allie’s ears rang briefly at the implication. Generally, she had no qualms about talking about sex, but the thought of discussing her sex life with her foster child when it concerned that child’s mother was enough to make even her blanch. She couldn’t possibly explain that Bea was not quite ready for such an experience and, even if she could, it would be a betrayal of Bea’s privacy. So she settled for a look that she hoped was neutral enough not to give anything away but at the same time warned Debbie to stay out of it. It must have worked because Debbie held her hands up in mock surrender. “Just trying to help,” she said defensively, her eyebrows raised almost as high as her hands. Allie was saved from having to make any answer to that by Bea’s arrival back in the room, drying her hands on her jeans.

“Shall we go?” she asked, seemingly unaware of any tension.

“Yep,” Allie replied, hastily ushering her out of the room.

“Bye Deb,” Bea called over her shoulder.

“Bye Mum.”

⁂

“On Saturday …” Allie began, as they parked outside Driscoll House. “Can I take you out?” She asked it so imploringly and her eyes were filled with such sweet sincerity that Bea nodded her agreement without even thinking about it. She took Allie’s hand in hers and leaned closer, knowing that they had little time before she had to go and unwilling to waste a second of it. Allie breathed in deeply and then groaned. "Urrr. The smell of my shampoo in your hair is incredible. I can't get enough of you." A buzzing had started up in the base of Bea's belly when Allie had kissed her and begun to undress her in the bathroom. It had carried on unabated all during dinner, like an engine left running, leaving her feeling slightly unhinged and completely restless. Now it intensified at Allie’s words. She dragged Allie half into her lap and kissed her heedlessly. Then Allie’s hands were in her hair pulling their mouths together hard and Bea just had time to hope that they could get at least a little time alone together on Saturday before her thoughts winked out completely.


	35. “Ten O’Clock Tiger”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which only time will tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skin. Teeth. But here it is. Phew.

As the bus lazily trundled along that Saturday morning, Bea stared out of the window and wondered whether she could find a way to talk to Allie about how she felt. Was it normal to feel so impatient to sleep with someone? She had no idea, but the restlessness she felt was becoming unbearable. Surely Allie felt it too? Having seen how Allie would happily defer whatever she could to make life easier for Bea, she wouldn’t be surprised to find that she was, misguidedly, holding back for Bea’s benefit. She sighed. Kissing her and taking off her clothes ought to do it, oughtn't it? How much plainer would she need to be? They wouldn’t need to get into an _actual_ , awkward conversation about it would they? She blinked and abruptly swivelled in her seat, her eye having been caught by a road sign listing, among other destinations, Anderson, which threw her mind back to what she had discovered at yesterday's therapy session. 

Dr Westfall had closed their session, a little self-consciously, by saying, "Before you go, I just wanted to let you know how pleased I am that your parole is going so well." Bea smiled, seeing the special gleam in her eyes that meant that those words were forwarded from Franky; filtered, no doubt, through Dr Westfall’s more refined dictionary. 

"Thanks …" But there was more that Franky wanted to say.

"I wonder how your friend Doreen is getting along? I haven't seen her …" Dr Westfall began cautiously.

Bea's heart gave a lurch and she sprang to her feet. 

_"What?_ " she asked in consternation. "She's in Wentworth still. I should be the one asking _Franky_ that question …" Dr Westfall looked bewildered.

"It was my understanding that she was here with you," she replied. Bea shook her head violently, went to the door and yanked it open, Dr Westfall following behind. 

"Judy?" Bea called, striding down the passage to her office. " _Judy …_ "

"Alright, alright. Where's the fire?" Judy asked, scooting her desk chair to the door and poking her head out.

"Did you ever find anything out about that woman I asked you about? Doreen Anderson?"

"No … But I was thinking about it and ya know what? That night you all arrived … I'd somehow got the idea that there were supposed to be ten of you. But there were only nine on the bus. I remember, I asked the screw,” she grimaced apologetically at Dr Westfall as that word appeared, without consideration, from her memory, “and she showed me a list of nine names. I thought I must've been mistaken," she explained. 

"Maybe not," Bea said darkly. She glanced at Dr Westfall. "If she's not here, and seemingly, she's not at Wentworth, where the hell is she?" Dr Westfall shrugged helplessly.

“I don’t know ...”

"Could she have been released? Transferred?" Judy asked. Bea pursed her lips, unconvinced.

"Maybe. But I'm worried." She glanced between Judy and Dr Westfall. "She's all alone without her friends, pregnant and … and I told her I'd be there for her," she added in desperation.

"Tell you what," Judy said with her typical cheerfulness. "I'll give Wentworth a call and ask them to check their records."

"You'd do that?"

"Of course. I'm sure that there's a straightforward explanation that'll put your mind at ease." Bea nodded. 

"Thanks Judy." Returning to the passageway she met the psychologist's worried eyes. "Maybe hold off mentioning this to Franky for now?" she suggested in an undertone. Dr Westfall didn't need to speak for Bea to catch the agreement in her expression. If there was an innocent explanation for Doreen’s whereabouts, they didn’t need Franky hitting the warpath.

The bus swung fluidly around a corner and Bea frowned as she summoned and dismissed every possible explanation for Doreen’s absence. Judy had so far been unable to get hold of Miss Davidson on the phone and Dr Westfall was unable to ask any awkward questions at Wentworth without revealing that she’d been passing information between Bea and Franky. Realising that she was getting close to Allie’s house she sat up straighter and attempted to banish her worries from her mind.

⁂

As Allie usually used the time when Bea and Debbie were out driving to get some chores done, Saturday morning found her rushing around, putting the finishing touches to the picnic food and tidying the lounge room. With a bit of luck, she thought, there would be time after the picnic … date … picnic-date to relax on the couch. Maybe even make out a bit. Or a lot. Just an hour or two would do it. So, she put away all the detritus that had gathered during the week, fluffed up the cushions and removed the most noticeable dust from the surfaces. She wanted to make it nice for Bea, but with the laundry still to be sorted and a shower still to be had, this was the best she could do before heading out to pick her up. 

"Right, I'm off."

Allie looked up in shock. "You're up. You're dressed …" Debbie rolled her eyes. 

"And I'm leaving the house …"

"It's eight in the morning …"

"I know."

"On a Saturday."

"Goodbye Allie," Debbie said flatly, retreating to the hall and sliding into her shoes.

"I can't help but be a little suspicious of this sudden studiousness," Allie complained in a louder voice. 

"Have fun!" came the reply.

“What about _breakfast?_ ” The front door slammed. Allie sighed. What was going on with that girl?

A mental shrug. Better fold the laundry. 

⁂

It seemed early to be meeting for a day out, considering that they couldn't leave the Melbourne area. The original arrangement had been that Allie would pick her up from Driscoll House at ten o'clock. But then Debbie had texted late last night to say that Allie had asked her if it was okay to change their plans, explaining that Allie’s phone was playing up. So Bea was arriving at Allie's for an eight thirty start.

As she walked up the path she debated using the key that Allie had given her. Allie was always urging her to just let herself in. After a moment’s hesitation she rang the bell. When the door was flung open she was confronted with a harassed looking Allie, sporting a mild case of bedhead and balancing a tall stack of folded laundry between her free arm and her chin.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “Hey! Bea …” 

“Morning, sweetheart,” Bea replied, stepping forward. “Allow me …” She peeled the top half off the stack, those items that were easily identifiable as Debbie’s, and drew them into her own arms before the whole thing could overbalance. Allie was still looking at her in shock. The back of Bea’s neck prickled. “You _are_ expecting me, aren’t you?” she asked, beginning to fear the worst.

“Not exactly,” Allie replied, a little flustered. “But I’m very pleased to see you, as always …” she added hastily. 

Bea frowned. “But Debbie said there was a change of plans …”

Allie laughed. _“Did_ she now?” It was plain that her arrival had taken Allie by surprise. Was this a genuine misunderstanding on Deb’s part? It was hard to see how that might have happened. What had her interfering daughter done now, Bea wondered with a mental eye roll. Her a favour, perhaps.

Allie stepped back a bit so that Bea could close the door behind her. It was only now that Bea noticed what Allie was wearing: a stretched out t-shirt, a pair of brief sleep shorts with a sporty scallop at the sides and some long, woolly socks, currently puddled around her ankles. Seeing Allie’s outfit, Bea couldn’t help the way that her mouth hitched up on one side. Noticing her amusement, Allie huffed disgustedly.

“Your feet must be boiling,” Bea commented mildly.

“They’re just right, thank you,” Allie replied, sounding annoyed. Was she really angry at having been caught out like this? Bea wasn’t sure. She wanted to kiss her, to show her that she was still utterly desirable even when she hadn’t had a chance to brush her hair. Even in those ridiculously unseasonable socks, but, what with Allie’s mood and the armfuls of laundry she couldn’t see a way of achieving it at that moment.

“Shall I ..?” Bea asked, gesturing to the stairs, which was surely where Allie had been heading when she had interrupted her. Allie nodded dumbly and preceded her up the stairs. Bea followed close behind. She watched the way that Allie’s hips moved and looked at her long legs disappearing into those silly shorts; dark blue, decorated with neon pink and green palm trees. She looked at the bunched up socks and the way that her t-shirt was sliding off one shoulder. Regardless of what Allie might think of Bea seeing her this way she was still the same beautiful girl that she had been since the first time they had met, and Bea’s body started up again with the impatient humming that had been an almost constant background for the last several days.

“You can just leave those on Debbie’s bed,” Allie said when they reached the top of the stairs. Bea nodded, wishing she had the courage to just throw the damn clothes on the floor, knock the other stack out of Allie’s hands and press her up against the wall. Swallowing her disappointment at her own timidity, she watched as Allie disappeared into her bedroom. Exiting her daughter’s room a few moments later, she cautiously rounded Allie’s door and observed as she put her clothes away on the shelves in her wardrobe. She watched her bend and stretch smoothly, unaware, perhaps, of Bea’s scrutiny. Her shirt slipped off her shoulder again. Bea watched her pull it back up and imagined herself sliding it off again and placing a kiss against that warm, smooth skin. She swallowed dryly, terrified, but determined to make it happen.

“Allie …” she croaked. Allie turned to look at her, eyes smiling. There was no trace of the earlier annoyance left in her face. Bea breathed out shakily. “Do you think we could ..?” She cast about for the right words.

“Get going?” Allie supplied. “Yeah, just let me have a quick shower …”

 _“No,_ ” Bea interrupted, her voice sounding more harsh than she had intended.

“No?” Allie asked, raising her eyebrows quizzically. She walked over to Bea and smoothed her hands down her bare arms, which only made Bea’s breathing more erratic. “You okay, babe?” she asked, sweetly concerned. Bea nodded and looked at her feet.

“I was just wondering … if we could take a rain check …” Allie drew her hands away.

“Uh … yeah, if you don’t wanna …” There was hurt in her eyes as she said this and Bea’s heart clenched painfully in remorse.

“No!” she all but yelled... “I mean …” She sighed. “I wondered if we could stay here … just the two of us …” She sneaked a look at Allie’s face. It had relaxed into a tolerant smile.

“Sure,” she said, bringing her arms around Bea and laying her cheek against her face. “I made us a picnic, but we can have it in the backyard if you don’t feel like going out.” Bea let out a shaky breath.

“I meant … stay here …” she said quietly, using one finger to slide Allie’s t-shirt off her shoulder. She laid her lips against the warm skin and kissed it gently. “In this room …” she clarified. Behind her ribs her heart clamoured noisily for attention but, in the bedroom, there was only stunned silence.

 _“Oh,_ ” Allie replied finally, as she suddenly came alive to Bea’s meaning.

⁂

 _Fuck._ This wasn’t the way that her gift of a day was supposed to start. Unwashed, undressed … these _passion-killing_ socks. This isn’t how she had wanted to look for her, today of all days. She had planned what she was going to wear (those shorts that made Bea stare) and she would have styled her hair, applied a little make-up … And here was Bea on her doorstep looking impeccable in loose black trousers and a tight, sleeveless black tee. Her curls were tied back to display her undercut and she looked freshly polished, springing with nervous excitement, and sexy to a degree that made Allie’s mouth water. _Debbie. The minx._ The message she had been _meant_ to relay to Bea had been to ask her to bring her swim things. Debbie obviously thought she knew better than Allie how this day ought to play out. Well, this didn’t need to derail their date. She would get ready while Bea waited and then they would set off, just a little earlier than planned.

Upstairs in her bedroom Bea clearly had something on her mind. Allie had thought, by this point, that she could interpret every glance and ellipsis in Bea’s repertoire. She was wrong. It turned out that she wasn’t as omniscient as she’d believed. Later, when alone, Allie laughed to remember how their thoughts had been moving in entirely different directions.

“Allie … Do you think we could ..?”

“Get going? Yeah, just let me have a quick shower …” Bea was clearly just as impatient as Allie to get their date underway.

“No.” She said it with such force that Allie stared at her in surprise. Bea was looking embarrassed, as though she had said something that she shouldn’t.

“No? You okay, babe?” Bea was evidently struggling to put her thoughts into words. Allie had found that a gentle touch sometimes shook her words free. So she stroked her hands over the bare skin of Bea’s arms, watching the hairs stand to attention, feeling her quake slightly at her touch. She heard Bea swallow and saw her head drop as she found her courage.

“I was just wondering … if we could take a rain check …” Allie felt a cold shock to the heart. This important day, when Allie had planned to lavish Bea with attention and show her how she felt about her; the first full day that they could be together, just the two of them, and Bea wanted to cancel. What did this mean?

“Uh … yeah, if you don’t wanna …” she said, as coolly as possible, covering the pain.

“No!” Bea sounded horrified by the thought. She scrambled to explain herself. “I mean … I wondered if we could stay here … just the two of us …” Allie smiled with relief. Ah, Bea was feeling nervous of being out in public. Maybe she was still a little uncomfortable on the outside, though she had seemed to be adjusting well. But it would make little difference to their day, so long as they could be together.

“Sure.” Allie took her in her arms, wanting to let her know that she was fine with her insecurities. “I made us a picnic, but we can have it in the backyard if you don’t feel like going out.” But Bea’s nervous gasp of breath let her know that there was more still to come.

“I meant … stay here …” Allie felt Bea’s hand come up and brush the neck of her t-shirt down over her shoulder. _Fuck. That was sexy._ And when she lovingly kissed her on the skin that she had exposed, it made Allie’s insides become hot and heavy. “In this room …” she whispered. 

Allie puzzled for a moment. A cascade of text scrolled up the display screen that sometimes blinked into life inside her head in moments of confusion.

_ >She wants to? _

> **You** want to.

_ >Something is stopping me. _

>But she **wants** you.

_ >Maybe, but is she ready? _

>She says she is.

 _ >She didn’t _ **_exactly_ ** _say so._

> Then you’ll have to ask her.

 _ > _ _[Logic error at line 6]_

|

|

|

… the cursor blinked patiently.

And abruptly, despite her preconceptions, Allie understood what Bea was trying to say and how wilfully she had been ignoring her.

“Allie ..?” Now Bea was looking worried. Allie kissed her. Because she wanted to. _God, she really wanted to._ And because she didn’t want Bea to worry. And to give herself time to think of the right thing to say. The thing that would be fair to Bea. Breaking the kiss, she looked her in the eyes.

“You know there’s no rush, right?” she asked earnestly. “Believe me, I want us to make love. But only when you’re ready and ... comfortable with the idea.”

“I _am_ comfortable with it,” Bea said with a frown. “I want to,” she said forcefully. “Don’t try to tell me if I’m ready or not.” She pulled Allie tight against her and spoke almost into her mouth. “And I think you want me …” Another kiss, filled with conviction, and Allie had to break away before she went under.

“Say it,” Allie commanded her when she was able. Bea looked at her with annoyance.

“What?”

“If you can’t even ask for what you want … If you can't say the words then I don’t think you _are_ ready.” Hard shards of anger came into Bea’s eyes and Allie was afraid that she had taken the wrong tack, because now Bea had something to prove. But then her eyes gentled and filled with tears for a moment. She swallowed and seemed to gather herself.

“I want to take you to bed. I want to _touch_ you ...” Bea said, her eyes shy, her voice emphatic. “… everywhere.” Her gaze strayed down to Allie’s bust, which gave a tell-tale heave that was beyond Allie’s control. Bea smiled with what Allie judged to be a passable simulacrum of confident sexuality, and began to back her up towards the bed. “I want to touch you and … make you come.” _Fuck._ Allie’s body responded to the deliberate intent behind those words in a way that made it difficult to stay either sane or responsible. And then, as if to prove her resolve, Bea slipped one hand up the back of Allie’s shorts to the spot where her thigh met her buttock and stroked the soft skin she found there. Her touch was just what Allie needed. Neither hesitant nor rough, it was tender and teasing and it made her insides liquefy as though she had never been touched before. Her lungs grabbed up a noisy breath as she searched Bea's eyes, looking for hesitancy and finding only a tigerish desire.

"What else?" she asked breathlessly, hypnotised by Bea's unexpected ardour. Now there was a glimmer of uncertainty, so Allie explained herself. "What do you want me to do for you?"

"Kiss me," Bea replied, looking like this, at least, was firm ground. Allie kissed her, making it long and thorough, leaving Bea panting through swollen lips. 

"What else?" she asked finally. Bea swallowed.

"Undress me … like … like you were gunna the other day …" she replied. Allie smiled at her. So that was it, was it? Had she been worked up ever since Debbie had interrupted that little bit of teasing she had begun in the bathroom? She smiled harder and no longer even tried to hide the need she felt.

What the hell. Sane and responsible were overrated.

⁂

“ … only when you’re ready and ... comfortable with the idea,” Allie had said in a sweetly reasonable tone. But for some reason, even though she knew that Allie was only looking out for her, the idea that she thought she didn’t know her own mind made anger rear up wildly for a moment. If Allie needed proof she would damn well give her proof … And then she remembered her therapy. Recognise the emotion, Dr Westfall would say. Accept it, but don’t act on it. Anger had no place here. The thought that she might respond to Allie with anger pounding along her veins distressed her so that her eyes filled with tears. Harry had trained her too well. But she would not be that person. She had a new teacher now, a new way of responding that had nothing to do with either anger or fear. Being here with Allie was about passion, yes, undoubtedly. But it was also about love. About giving it and receiving it. That was the only thing she needed to prove to Allie.

So she spoke the words, which was not so difficult in the end, and demonstrated her seriousness with a touch. She watched Allie’s eyes darken and her breath hasten. Bea felt her own body hum more forcefully in response to Allie’s desire. And when Allie kissed her so comprehensively, she felt her already cantering heart answer to the tender spur and rise willingly to a hard gallop.

“What else?” Allie asked her while Bea struggled for breath.

“Undress me …” Bea said. Allie smiled and Bea saw assent in her eyes. Perhaps those were the magic words. _Open sesame._ It’s what she should have said from the beginning. And so, here she was, asking for what she wanted. It hadn’t been easy, but she was learning.

Allie smiled again. Bea grinned back. _And so it begins._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me for stopping there. I honestly didn't have time to write on!  
> I hope you enjoyed that and that you are all well. Please leave a comment if you have the time. Hitch ❤


	36. "The Skin Game"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the reader is invited to witness the joining of two hearts and two bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thursday again and here we have the next installment. Happy Thanksgiving to those who celebrate it.

Allie smiled at Bea. _Undress me._ She had asked so sweetly and so shyly that Allie’s heart was filled with an aching love that demanded to be expressed. And yet, underneath the shyness was a conviction that allowed Allie to finally give herself permission to begin to touch Bea in the way she had always wanted. Taking hold of the hem of Bea’s fitted t-shirt she inched it up a little over her belly and ribs. Bea exhaled with satisfaction and Allie chuckled in delight. Bea looked at her with a question in her eyes, only to relax when she saw that Allie was not laughing at her, but was just genuinely delighted to know that Bea wanted this. Bea raised her arms above her head and gave a wriggle so that Allie could pull her shirt off over her head. Which she did, casting it to the side heedlessly so that she could skim her hands over Bea’s ribs and back. Holding off on removing her bra for now, Allie spent some time trailing her fingertips over her skin as Bea shivered under her attention. Then she added some light kisses to her shoulders and upper chest, enjoying Bea’s uneven breaths and her own anticipation of all that was still to come.

Once Bea started tugging impatiently at Allie’s t-shirt, she backed away and sat down on the edge of the bed. The last thing she wanted was for Bea to undress her and for her to be left wearing nothing but her socks. That would be humiliating. Bea stared at her, large-eyed, no doubt wondering what was going on. Allie smiled mischievously, leant back in her elbows and slowly extended one leg, woolly sock and all, pointing her toes in what she hoped was an elegant way and tossing her head in imitation of an old Hollywood star. Bea laughed and took hold of her foot.

“You can keep them on if you like,” she teased. “I would hate for you to get cold feet.”

“Not gunna happen,” Allie told her firmly. When Bea still hesitated, Allie begged. “Please Bea. Don’t make our first time all weird.” Bea relented at this, taking hold of the fabric at the toes and slowly drawing the sock off. Just as the sock slid off her foot, Bea went down on her knees. Resting Allie’s ankle on her shoulder and holding it in place with both hands she placed a kiss on her lower leg. A shock travelled up Allie’s body making her draw in a sharp breath. Bea looked at her and very deliberately repeated the action, her lips moving a little higher each time until she reached her knee.

"For the record, I don't mind the socks at all," Bea told her in a confidential tone, placing kisses between her words. "Actually, I think you'd look pretty amazing in nothing but," she said blushingly. Allie laughed disbelievingly.

"Maybe next time," she allowed, her ideas of what Bea might enjoy expanding with her words. "But for now …"

Bea switched legs, gently rolling the sock off Allie's foot before giving it the same treatment as the other. Allie watched her from beneath her lids, gratified to see her so confident. Still, she hesitated when she reached the knee. Any higher, Allie thought, and she might fear that her actions would be construed as an intention of something that she wasn't quite ready to perform yet. So she sat up and got to her feet, pulling Bea with her and kissing her. 

"That was _sexy_ ," she told her. _Obviously_. But maybe Bea needed to know that she was living up to expectations. " _You're_ sexy," she continued, capturing her gaze and skimming her hands over her breasts. Bea twitched but didn't jump out of her skin like last time. Allie touched her more firmly, elated to finally get to touch her in this way. Bea's nipples were almost shard-like through the thin fabric. She arched into Allie's touch, her breath shuddering through her parted lips.

"Take it off," she said with a hint of impatience. Allie had it unfastened and on the floor in an instant. One long look later and she had torn her own shirt off over her head and cast it aside, eager for them to be in the same state of undress. Bea was staring. Allie let her look, resting her hands on Bea's hips, taking in the dark mulberry of her nipples contrasting with the pale skin of her breasts. She could imagine how soft that skin would be, but held off touching for the moment, waiting for Bea to have looked her fill. When Bea looked up and met her glance, eyes shining, Allie stepped closer and allowed her breasts to brush against Bea's slightly, and then a little more boldly. Bea trembled at the sensation and gave a gasping laugh. 

"Do you like that?"

⁂

Did she like that? _Yes, she liked_. She could never have imagined the satisfaction she would get from feeling someone else's body touch hers. Allie's skin was soft and her breasts firm as they butted gently against her own, prompting a cascade of electricity to race down her body and settle in her belly. And when Allie's newly hardened nipples touched against her, Bea could see and feel for herself that she felt it too, felt the same incredible heat and satisfaction, and then she couldn't hold back a laugh of pure, spontaneous happiness. 

So, yes. She liked it. She nodded to Allie’s question and moved closer so that the sensation was even more satisfying. A groan escaped her lips without her permission, causing her to press her lips together and blush in consternation. But Allie’s smile just grew bigger.

“That’s a seriously sexy sound,” she said frankly. And she kissed Bea studiously, as though to imprint her words. “There’s no one here but us, babe,” she continued, pulling their bodies ever closer. “Be as loud as you want. I plan to hear a lot more sounds from these lips before long.” And she kissed her again. Bea’s blood surged at the anticipation that Allie’s words created. That, and the feel of their bare breasts rubbing together, made it hard to concentrate when Allie began speaking again between kisses and touches. “I’m gunna make love to you Bea. Like I’ve wanted to for so long. I’m gunna make you feel so good. And I don’t want you to worry about anything. You’re safe with me, my love. Anything you don’t like, just tell me. Anything you particularly like, or want to try …” and here she drew back and caught Bea’s eyes with hers, eyes and lips smiling and gleaming so that Bea chuckled, “ … let me know.” At this point Allie’s hand settled on the waistband of Bea’s trousers. She tugged at them meaningfully, raising one brow in question. Bea nodded her consent and Allie had them puddled around her ankles in an instant.

As she stepped out of them, Bea knew a moment of anxiety. What if the way she looked didn’t match up to Allie’s expectations? She already knew that Allie was gorgeous. Just from a brief look she had seen that her breasts were perfectly shaped, the nipples small and pink, and she had no doubt that the rest of her would be just as flawless. Bea, on the other hand, had scars, and plenty of them, stretch marks from carrying Deb, and had had almost an extra decade of gravity acting upon her. Suddenly shy, she crossed her arms in front of her body. Allie, of course, noticed, and her shining eyes dimmed a little.

“I wish you could see what I see,” she said. “Your beauty. Your allure. Your sex appeal …” she trailed off, her eyes running over Bea greedily. She took Bea’s hands in hers and drew them away so that she could look more fully. Unable to bear her scrutiny Bea turned her head to the side and focussed on the filmy curtains that obscured Allie’s windows. “And your _boobs_ …” Allie said in a reverent tone. Bea looked at her sharply to see if she was taking the piss. But no, she really was staring longingly at Bea’s chest. “Can I ..?” she began. Bea looked at her curiously, unable to hide her smile at being the object of such an ardent look. When she didn’t object, Allie dropped Bea’s hands and gently cupped her breasts with both of hers, running her fingertips and then her thumbs over her nipples. A firmer touch was next, followed by a squeeze of her nipple which shot a dart of acute pleasure down her body to an area inside her that was now tight with longing. Bea could only gasp and rock back on her heels, feeling as though her consciousness was attempting to exit her body through the top of her head. Allie looped an arm around her to steady her. “Whoa there,” she chuckled. And she pivoted and steered and almost carried Bea onto the bed. _Who knew she was so strong?_ Bea wondered, feeling as weak as an hour-old foal herself.

And then Allie was hovering above her. _Such kisses._ Bea touched her, everywhere she could reach, grabbing and stroking, rearranging her limbs for maximum contact. Allie's skin was soft and warm, so warm, but there was something beyond that simple animal pleasure of skin on skin. Every touch seemed to transmit the unique electricity that the two of them shared. Or was it a chemical thing? Two sets of pheromones, one the key to the other. Allie had once told her that she was good at chemistry and Bea was forced to agree.

Through her wandering thoughts, Bea was aware of the harshness of her own breath, a sense of pressure in her ears and her belly, and Allie, all soft skin and trailing hair. And then her legs sliding over and between Bea’s own, the weight of her hips against Bea’s, their hands clasping above Bea’s head.

“Is this okay?” Allie asked breathlessly, pausing to stare concernedly into Bea’s eyes. Bea blinked. Through some very gentle and lovely contest she had become pinned to the mattress. It ought to be making her every instinct scream out in panic. And yet … it wasn’t just okay. It was excellent. Perfect. She felt no fear, only a thumping desire. She nodded at Allie and smiled in delight, taking in her pink cheeks and dark eyes, knowing that they were in this together; exploring, trusting, sealing their bond.

“Yes,” she breathed, in answer. “Please … don’t stop …” Allie laughed and Bea could only assume that her expression mirrored the desperation of her words. She smiled in return, and then they were kissing again until Allie’s mouth migrated to her throat, collarbone and chest. When Allie’s mouth closed hotly over Bea’s nipple, the sensation speared her so that she arched up with a cry. Allie glanced up with a laughing look before moving her mouth to the other breast. The light suction was almost too much; Bea shook off Allie’s hands, her body acting instinctively to wrap around her, arms around her back, legs around her waist, tight, pulling her close, shifting, seeking … something.

For one glorious moment Allie pressed against her in return before saying, “Babe … wait … can I take these off?” The fingers of one hand had hooked into the side of Bea’s knickers. “I really want to _touch_ you …” she said, her dark eyes on Bea's in a way that left no doubt either about her meaning or how much she hungered to do exactly as she had asked. Bea’s insides clenched shockingly hard. How could Allie saying that have excited her so much? They were only words. How could they have such an effect on her body? Allie was looking at her expectantly so she nodded dumbly, still wondering, as Allie scooted down the bed, knelt up and dragged her damp underwear down and off over her feet.

“You too,” Bea husked, noticing that Allie had so far kept her pyjama shorts on. Allie grinned, stood at the foot of the bed and slowly began to shimmy out of her shorts, eyes on Bea to make sure she was watching. Soon they were around her ankles. Allie bent to retrieve them and twirl them over her head before flinging them across the room in triumph. Bea laughed. Allie posed, hip cocked first one side then the other, using her hands to gather her hair up onto her head. _So beautiful_. “C’mere,” Bea insisted though her grin, shaking her head and making an impatient beckoning motion with one hand. “Beautiful girl,” she murmured to herself. Allie grinned and launched herself onto the bed before crawling back into Bea’s arms.

“Now where was I?” Allie asked teasingly, before kissing her and running her hands over her body and finally reaching down to touch her in the purposeful way that Bea, without knowing it, had craved. That sliding sensation of Allie’s fingers was a pleasure beyond anything she had known. Her usually tenacious grip on her surroundings, her awareness of potential danger, began to slacken, and she couldn’t find anything to hold onto or any will to care. She just wanted to follow where this thread of pleasure led and reach what was at the end. At every moment she thought that the sensation that Allie was generating couldn’t feel any more intense, but then it did, and it did again and some more. And there was something tightening inside her until it thrummed with tension, ratcheting up and up almost unbearably until, after a moment of exquisite pause, it snapped and all she could do was buck and gasp and hold on to Allie while it had its way with her.

⁂

Faces close together, Bea smiled and ran her fingers shakily over Allie’s lips. She had regained her breath now and her eyes had lost some of the otherworldliness that Allie had been gazing into while she came back to her. 

"Hi," Bea said in a small voice. 

"Hi babe," Allie replied gently, stroking her cheek tenderly and shifting closer still. Bea took her face between her hands and kissed her lingeringly. "You okay?" Allie asked. Bea nodded, regarding her seriously.

" _I love you_ ," Bea said, tears springing up and a quaver entering her voice. Allie smiled down at her.

“I know,” she replied gently. “I love you too.”

“I should have said it before …” Bea went on. “I don’t know why I didn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Allie explained. “I knew …”

“Maxine told me to tell you,” Bea admitted with a sideways look.

Allie laughed. “Did she now?” Bea nodded.

“She also said that you probably already knew, but … that you would like to hear it.”

“Right on all counts. She sounds like a wise woman. I can’t wait to meet her.” Allie kissed her, triumphant that Bea had told her, but unwilling to hear any more about some stranger at a time like this, even if she was a dear friend of Bea’s.

“Mmph," Bea tore her lips away. "I’m sorry. I’m so useless at all this,” she said with a sigh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Allie’s ear.

“You’re so far from useless, I don’t know where to start,” Allie told her with a brief kiss to the lips.” But thank you for telling me," she added after a pause. "Though you should know that it doesn't count when you say it in a post-orgasmic haze," she added with a smirk.

 _"It counts_ ," Bea insisted. Allie laughed. 

“Nuh-uh,” she said, shaking her head fondly.

“Say it counts,” Bea said, baring her teeth and rolling over so that she was laying half on top of her, her fingers already poised on her most ticklish ribs. Allie laughed and shook her head, unable to get enough of this playful version of Bea. Soon she was giggling and struggling helplessly against Bea’s superior strength.

"Okay, okay. It counts,” she conceded breathlessly.

"Now you're just humouring me," Bea complained.

“But I’ll be expecting to hear those words again sometime when you’re not high on sex hormones,” Allie told her.

“I’m not high on anything,” Bea frowned. “I love you. And I wanted to say it. That’s all there is to it.”

"Wow. Are we going to have an argument?" Allie asked mockingly, staring at her pouting lips avariciously.

 _"No,_ " Bea replied sharply, tightening her arms around her. "No," she repeated quietly, and kissed her. "Because I have found an excellent way of shutting you up." And she covered Allie's mouth with her own, kissing her fervently.

Allie relaxed into her embrace, allowing her hands to trail over Bea’s back and down to her bum, the cheeks of which fitted perfectly into her hands. She had long coveted this particular part of Bea’s anatomy and to be able to touch it and hold it as much as she liked without the barrier of cloth between them gave her enormous satisfaction. Meanwhile, Bea had transferred her kisses from her mouth to her neck to her upper chest and Allie had a notion that she was starting something.

“You know, you don’t … _ah_ …” Both Allie’s words and her thoughts were swallowed up by the acute pleasure of Bea’s mouth on her breast. _Fuck._ Was there any point in trying to suggest that reciprocation was unnecessary? After Bea had been so annoyed at her for suggesting she wasn’t ready, perhaps it would be wise to just allow her to continue. After all, it was hardly in her own interests to insist that the sexy, naked woman in her arms should stop touching and kissing her. And this was how her clouded mind justified the way she pressed herself against Bea and allowed an impassioned moan to slip past her lips.

After a long period, during which the ache between her legs became increasingly unbearable, Allie decided that a little encouragement might bring things along.

“Bea … please. Touch me …”

Bea’s head came up, her expression adorably worried.

“I need you … here,” Allie explained with a smile, taking her hand and placing it at the crux of her thighs. Bea moved her hand experimentally and gasped softly in wonder as her fingers lightly explored Allie's sex. 

_“I know._ Slippery when wet,” Allie said with a slight laugh that soon became a gasp of her own. And it was true. Allie was so wet for her that, if she had been a different kind of person, she might have been embarrassed by it. “This is … what you do … to me, babe,” she managed to pant as Bea’s touch became more definite. “Yes … yes … right there …” She was soaring now, exulting in the knowledge that it was Bea touching her, Bea kissing her. “More …” And Bea gave it. More than she could have imagined. And then, after a time, when her mouth closed sharply over her nipple, Allie’s mind and body flipped over and over. 

⁂

“Thank you,” Bea said later, her head resting on Allie’s chest, listening to the steady drub of her heart.

 _"Thank you?_ ” Allie asked. “For what? For giving me the best fucking time of my life?” She laughed quietly, as if to herself. “The best time _fucking,_ of my life. Word order is everything …” she snorted gently. Bea laughed and lifted herself up so that she could look Allie in the face.

“And that’s exactly why,” she told her. “Not only did you give me pleasure and show me love …” Bea swallowed dryly, unused to giving such heartfelt speeches. “Not only did you give yourself to me and trust me. But you did something I didn’t expect … you made it _fun._ ”

“Of _course_ …” Allie started to say, looking surprisingly moved.

“You know, when you see sex scenes on the telly or wherever, they’re always so _serious._ It’s intimidating …” Bea tried to explain. Allie nodded her understanding. “But with you … it was _easy_ for me, because … I don’t know. I guess your attitude took the pressure off,” she concluded. Allie nodded again and kissed her softly on the apex of her cheek. It was such a loving gesture that Bea’s eyes fluttered closed ecstatically.

“Well, I’ll take your compliment and raise you another,” Allie said quietly, tracing a pattern along Bea’s collarbone with her finger. “You, my love, are the best thing that ever happened to me, either inside or outside of the bedroom.”

 _How happy I am,_ Bea thought incredulously as Allie smiled up into her brimming eyes. She leant down and kissed her. Allie’s arms came around her. And then one leg. Bea smiled against Allie’s mouth. _And so it began. Again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that ticked your boxes for how their first time might have been. Let me know your thoughts.
> 
> Hitch ❤


	37. “Martha Mason, Movie Star”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the past is invoked.

_Blonde bombshell._ Bea chewed thoughtfully as Allie chatted away, messily dropping crumbs in her lap. It made her smile to remember that she had labelled Allie as such on the day that she had visited her in medical and they had kissed for the very first time. Now, seeing her sitting cross legged on the mattress, her hair awry, enthusing with her mouth half full, she wondered about all the different facets of herself that Allie had shown her; friend, mother, fool, lover. The classic female archetype, _blonde bombshell,_ seemed to have little in common with the Allie before her now; this beautiful, clumsy, funny girl, with her clever hands and kiss stained lips.

Bea grinned to think about that single kiss that had turned her body, and her life, inside out. Just this morning they had shared probably _hundreds_ of kisses and yet the effect remained the same. And it was still never enough. Making love just now, Bea had had the absurd notion that she wanted to crawl inside Allie's skin as a way of relieving the frustrating sensation of never being quite close enough. Could that be normal, to crave someone like that? 

"What's got you smiling?" Allie asked with a cock of her head.

"You," Bea admitted, looking into her lap and trying not to blush. "I was thinking about the first time you kissed me."

"You mean, the first time _you_ kissed _me_ ," she corrected archly. Bea shrugged. 

"That's not how I remember it …”

“Then let me remind you. You were beaten and tearstained, wearing hardly anything. I was only telling you about a dream I had had, and then suddenly you kissed me …” Allie teased. Bea laughed.

“Which you totally hated, I suppose?” Bea asked, playing along. Allie abandoned her sandwich and began crawling over the mattress towards her.

“It was the most …” she said, kissing Bea lightly on the lips, “unexpected kiss I have ever anticipated,” Allie told her confusingly, kissing her again.

“Huh?” Bea asked.

“I mean … I was hoping that you might kiss me, and then I knew you were gunna … but when you did, it still took me by surprise … the way it made me feel was … pretty overwhelming,” she admitted. “And then today … Wow. You surprised me again, babe." Bea lay back, smiling, and pulled Allie snug against her. Allie's hand immediately began a teasing journey from Bea’s waist up to her chest. "God, I can't get enough of you," she said earnestly, unknowingly echoing Bea’s own thoughts. She stroked her hand possessively over Bea's entire chest until her fingers lay against her collarbone. "I love you," she said, planting a kiss alongside her fingers. "Every part of you. But this part is especially lovely," she said, kissing along the bone before allowing her tongue to swirl into the notch at the base of her throat. Bea laughed. 

"That was always Deb's favourite spot too, when she was a baby." Allie raised her head to look at her questioningly. "She pretty much used my collarbone as a teething ring, gumming along it and drooling all down my chest."

"Urgh," Allie commented. "Somehow I don't feel the same about it now," she deadpanned. "I'll just have to find a new favourite spot," she said, trailing her fingers meaningfully down Bea's body. Bea laughed and squirmed. 

"Except pretty much every part of me has history," Bea said with a pang of resentment. She hesitated for a moment and then spoke her fear. "Do you mind?" she asked in little more than a whisper. "The scars?"

"Didn't I just say that I love every part of you?" Allie replied unhesitatingly, and she lifted Bea's arm and brought her lips to the small scars left by the surgery she had had to fix her broken bones. "I love this bit, and this bit …" she began, kissing her way up Bea's arm. "And I love your eyes, your hair, your bum." She gave the part in question a squeeze, staring into her eyes. "And I love your new shorter fingernails," she continued with a smirk. "And I'm gunna love your morning breath, belly button fluff, hair regrowth … all of it."

 _"Ew, Allie!"_ Bea protested, her disgusted tone at odds with the smile she felt twitching at her lips. Because to hear this catalogue of acceptance pleased her deeply. It spoke of an unconditional love that eased Bea's bruised self and made her feel as though she could relax into her own existence for the first time in years. She trailed her fingers up under Allie's shirt, scratching lightly with her nails; shorter, yes, because several hours after Allie had said she would trim them for her, she had blushingly realised the import of her offer and trimmed them herself. Allie made an _umm_ of satisfaction and arched against her. "So freckles, moles, scars …" she continued, "it's all you and all lovely." Bea kissed her cheek gratefully. 

"Easy for you to say," she murmured into her hair. "You with your perfect skin."

 _"I_ have a scar," Allie countered.

"No you don't," Bea contradicted her with certainty, having just this morning kissed every inch of Allie's skin.

"I do," she insisted. 

"Wait, is this a psychological scar?" Bea asked, pulling back to look at her face. Allie thumped her lightly on the shoulder. 

"No, an _actual_ scar, though it's pretty difficult to see."

"Is this a test?" Bea asked. "Like _'Where's Wally'_?" Allie laughed. 

"No, it's right here," she said tugging down the top of her shorts. "But it's just below the hairline …" Eyebrows raised at Allie’s complete lack of embarrassment, Bea scooted down to have a closer look. Sure enough, just within the triangle of dark blonde hair there was a barely noticeable scar.

“What’s this from?” Bea asked in alarm, tracing it with one finger.

“I had some keyhole surgery a few years ago,” Allie told her. “To sort out my endometriosis.”

“You have endometriosis?” Bea asked, looking up sharply. Allie nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me sweetheart?” Bea asked, dismayed that she didn’t know this important fact.

Allie shrugged and drew Bea back up into her arms. “It just never came up, and … since the laser surgery blasted all the lesions away it’s … old news.” Bea regarded her seriously having heard about how painful endometriosis could be. Some weight of that pain remained. Bea could see it beneath her light-hearted demeanour.

“It was bad, wasn’t it?” she said with certainty. Allie nodded and for once couldn’t meet Bea’s eyes as her own puddled with tears. “Tell me,” Bea urged softly, holding her closer and kissing the skin at the corner of her eye.

“It started when I was a teenager,” she began. “Dad was useless of course, and with Mum gone I was on my own, trying to figure out if the amount of pain I was feeling was normal.” She glanced at Bea, who nodded for her to continue. “In the end I saw my GP who pretty much told me to pull myself together. All women get period pain, she said, and sent me away. So, I managed as best I could with over the counter painkillers, taking too many, taking days off school when the pain was so bad I couldn’t even stand …” Bea felt a wave, cold with shock, sweep through her at those words. How could anyone allow their daughter to go through something like this without acting? What kind of a man was Allie’s father?

“And then the whole thing with Tamara blew up,” Allie continued, meeting Bea’s eyes again, and stroking her hands down Bea’s back soothingly, as though she was the one who needed comforting. “And Dad sent me away. And then I was on the streets,” she sighed fatalistically. “The pain, of course, was still there … until I discovered ice.” Allie fixed her with a determined look and Bea returned that look twofold, equally determined to hear it all, no matter how painful. “It solved so many things,” Allie said wistfully, smiling a little at the memory. “It took away the pain. And the shame. The hunger … and it made me feel _great._ _Extraordinary._ I was _amazing_ when I was on ice …”

“No,” Bea told her. “You’re amazing _now,_ for having kicked it.” Allie smiled at her fondly and stroked her face.

“Thank you, babe,” she said, before continuing in a rush. “After Kaz got me clean … Well. It didn’t take her long to figure out what was wrong with me and get me to a doctor. They didn’t want to put me on strong painkillers, not when I was newly sober, so they fast-tracked me for surgery. And, you know, that surgery doesn’t work for everyone. But it worked for me. I was really lucky.” Bea shook her head slightly to hear Allie describe herself as _lucky._ After everything she had gone through; bereavement, neglect, rejection. And through all of that there was the pain of her condition, her utter friendlessness, the pollution of her self that she must have felt with every grubby, greedy hand that touched her. Each new revelation about Allie’s past picked away at Bea’s heart, peeling away whatever tough rind remained, exposing the tender nerves beneath. How could life be so cruel? And how could Allie be so calm about it now? So forgiving of what had been done to her? How had her sunny disposition survived ..?

“Oh, babe! Don’t cry … I didn’t mean to make you cry,” Allie said hoarsely, interrupting her thoughts, her voice swarming with regret. And it was only when Allie said that, that Bea realised that her face was wet and then felt an accompanying sob convulse her body.

“I’m sorry,” she said thickly, once the spasm had passed. “It just _hurts_ …” She wanted to say that it hurt to hear about Allie’s pain, except her voice was lost to her. But Allie was nodding rapidly in understanding.

“I know,” she said, gripping Bea to her fiercely and rocking her. “I know. It’s hard to hear …” And, with another pang, Bea knew that Allie was talking about how _she’d_ felt, during her trial, when she had heard what Harry had done to her over the years.

“I’m sorry …” Bea repeated. Sorry for putting you through that, she thought to herself. Sorry for everything you’ve been through. For everything she had allowed Deb to suffer. “So sorry,” she repeated.

“It’s okay now.” Allie soothed, though she was clearly upset herself. “I’m okay now babe, and so are you.” 

⁂

Allie was weirdly glad to have Bea cry like that. When she had begun speaking about her endometriosis and how it had been part of the disaster that had derailed her youth, she had not expected for Bea to get so upset. She had not meant to mar their perfect day with tears. But now it had happened she was almost glad. Bea was such a _stoic._ It could hardly be healthy. And today was an emotional day. Perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised that some tears had been shaken loose.

After sleeping in her arms for no more than a few minutes Bea had awakened with a startling clarity to her gaze. Allie looked at Bea looking back at her. There was nothing cloaked there. Bea showed her love and desire plainly, and all attempts to dodge or obfuscate were gone. She wanted her and she allowed it to show. And then she kissed her and Allie was reminded, tasting her tears, of that first kiss all those months ago. Only, now Bea understood herself much better and kissed Allie with the tender zeal of a woman freshly in love. Gradually Allie’s breath was sucked from her lungs and, as her heart bucked fitfully in her chest, Bea took control of her senses. Defenceless against her newly sure touch, Allie shook and sighed. She gasped when Bea’s lips closed around her clit; she whimpered when Bea’s fingers slid inside her and struck a confident rhythm; and she cried out when Bea brought her to a strong, drawn out climax.

When the world came back into focus, Bea was still looking at her with that same intensity.

“I love you, Allie,” she said seriously. Allie nodded, too overcome to find a reply. Bea stroked her hair gently and examined her face, seeming a little in awe. “I love you, beautiful girl,” she said with a slight crack in her voice. 

Allie smiled at her and then laughed, allowing her joy to spill over. There it was. _Sweetheart, Sunshine,_ and finally, _Beautiful girl._ The three endearments that Bea had promised her so long ago. 

⁂

Bea was conscious of an unfamiliar ache in the space between her legs. It wasn’t painful, like when Harry had had his way with her. It was the sweet ache of well used muscles and nerves, a memory of pleasure that Bea savoured with satisfaction. In fact, that whole area hummed happily in a paean to the attentiveness of Allie’s hands and mouth. Bea took a gulp of her tea and smiled at her across the table. They were on picnic part two now, part one having become hopelessly lost and destroyed amongst Allie’s sheets. After that they had showered together, soaping each other up, Bea smiling so hard that her face began to ache, but still she couldn’t stop. Inevitably, they had found the combination of gentle spray and naked flesh too much of a temptation to resist, and they had made love again, this time with the cold tiles burning their skin.

“It’s a good job you made so much food,” Bea commented, hungrily chewing on a muffin.

“There’s _way_ more still in the fridge,” Allie said. “I don’t know what I was thinking … Perhaps we could try again tomorrow, for an actual outdoor picnic?” she suggested. “Take Deb too …”

Bea smiled at the way that Allie always included Debbie. Personally she could not see beyond a time when all she wanted was to be alone with Allie, with the freedom to touch her and undress her and share in this wonderful new thing they had discovered. But of course, their lives were not like that. Later on she would have to return to Driscoll House and Allie would be in that bed alone tonight. This was no fairy-tale and there was no quick fix to their situation. 

“Stop worrying,” Allie told her affectionately, coming around the table, planting herself in Bea’s lap and kissing her doubts away. “The day’s not over yet.” So saying, she took her by the hand and led her out into the small backyard. Tipping her into the hammock, she clambered awkwardly in after her and they arranged themselves, more or less comfortably, against each other. Bea sighed, content. For now, at least, they were together.

⁂

Arriving home at five, I slammed the front door behind me so that I wouldn’t surprise Mum and Allie in an embarrassing situation. Creeping into the kitchen, all seemed quiet and I wondered if they had gone out after all, or even better, if they were sleeping upstairs. Then the motion of Nova, who I spotted through the patio window dropping out of the hammock, caught my eye and a second later Allie’s head popped up. When she saw me, she began extricating herself from the hammock and, I could now see, my sleeping mother. I stepped a little closer. Allie made a shushing gesture at me. I stopped at the threshold and looked at my mum. The habitual crease between her brows, that remained even when she slept, was gone. To say she looked relaxed didn’t do it justice; it was as if several years’ worth of trouble had been wiped away by a single wave of Allie’s magic wand. I grinned to myself, well satisfied by what I had achieved, and would have celebrated by punching the air were it not for the look Allie was giving me.

I backed off as she stepped into the kitchen, sliding the door closed behind her so that Mum wouldn’t be disturbed.

“What the hell, Deb …” she began. Her expression promised severe reprisals and I took another half-step back before she caught me up in a hug and laughed in my ear. “Just kidding! You’re an interfering little bugger … but … you got it right on this occasion.” I laughed with relief. “But don’t try anything like that again,” she said with an emphatic squeeze that was tight enough to be an effective deterrent.

“Okay,” I squeaked, only too happy to agree. The less I could be involved in my mum’s love life the better. And really, looking at Allie’s smile and Mum’s serene sleep, I thought it was safe for me to take several steps back. Or even move to a different continent.

An hour later and Mum was up, practically floating around the kitchen as she prepared a meal for us all. If she remembered that I had manipulated her and Allie into spending the day in private she didn’t mention it. She just blithely kissed me on the cheek, asked me if I’d had a good time with my friends and went back to stabbing clumsily at a pepper while her eyes followed Allie around the room. Not knowing whether to laugh or puke I retreated to the lounge room with Nova, satisfied that I had achieved my goal.

⁂

Whilst she tidied up the kitchen Bea could hear Allie and Debbie laughing at whatever movie they had chosen. Glancing around in satisfaction at the clean worktops and table she turned towards the darkened lounge. Something black and white was playing out on the television screen while Deb and Allie, slouched on the couch, watched on, occasionally giggling. Bea watched for a while, standing leaning against the doorway, until Allie held out her hand to her, inviting her to join them. Unable to resist, Bea took her place next to Allie, leaned into her and placed her hand on her thigh. 

"What are we watching?" she asked warily, these old movies being something of a trial to her.

 _"Vivacious Lady,"_ Allie said. "A couple meet and instantly fall in love,” she summarised, “but now they can't find the opportunity to consummate their relationship." She paused. "It's basically our story, babe," she said, straight-faced. Debbie chuckled. Bea leaned forward to give her a look, immediately silencing her. " _I'm_ Ginger Rogers, obviously …" Allie said with certainty, pointing. Bea looked at the screen, filled with an attractive blonde.

"Obviously," she agreed. "So that means I'm ..?" she prompted.

"Jimmy Stewart," Allie replied. Debbie spluttered out another laugh.

"The lanky, awkward guy who can hardly get his words out?" Bea asked, affronted. They both nodded solemnly. Bea looked back at the screen just in time to see the male lead's face transformed with love as he gazed at his co-star. She shrugged. "Yeah, fair enough," she agreed.

⁂

Bea was really pushing it tonight, Allie thought anxiously, wondering just how many seconds before nine it was. But every kiss, though it promised to be the last, somehow wasn’t. Bea cleaved to her, seeming reluctant to let her go. Allie, for her part, would happily stay like this forever, were it not for the risk to Bea's parole.

"Babe," she gasped, breaking out of the latest kiss. "Time …"

"I know, I know," Bea mumbled, attempting to reattach their lips. 

"You've got to _go_ ," Allie insisted, hand pushing against Bea's chest to give herself a little distance. "We'll be together in the morning …"

A sudden sharp rap on the car window made them both jump.

" _Jeez_ …" Allie hissed, her heart frisking in her chest. Ducking her head she could see Judy standing next to the car. She was tapping meaningfully at her wrist. Her expression was stern, but Allie thought that she could see a gleam of amusement in her dark eyes.

Bea cursed feelingly. "Gotta go, _Beautiful Girl,_ " she told Allie with a peck on the lips. She opened the door and began to climb out of the car, before suddenly turning back. "I enjoyed that movie, by the way. It was funny. But you're _way_ sexier than Ginger Rogers," she said with a smile. Allie couldn't help but laugh.

“And _you’re_ way sexier than James Stewart,” she replied agreeably. “But, you’re about level pegging on the adorability scale …” she said, making a balancing gesture with her hand. Bea gave an offended huff of laughter and attempted to lean in for another kiss. "Go!" Allie said, with a light shove. Bea scrambled out and walked away, Judy by her side. Allie watched the motion of Bea's backside, imagining the day when they wouldn't have to say goodbye. Just before they reached the door to Driscoll House, Bea turned around and called something that Allie couldn't quite catch. _Blonde what?_ Allie shook her head in mystification, and drove home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The film "Vivacious Lady" is from 1938, directed by George Stevens. It's a cracking little film in lots of ways, but suffers from a couple of passages of shocking racism. I'm interested in hearing people's thoughts on this. Is it possible to continue to enjoy films like this whilst condemning the racism as an artefact of worse times? Or should we strike things like this off our watch lists completely? I'd be interested to hear your thoughts.
> 
> Those of you who might be thinking that Allie's endometriosis has come out of nowhere - I refer you back to the beginning of chapter 16 😉
> 
> This week I heard that the actress Betty Bobbitt has died, sadly. She did a splendid job of being Judy Bryant in Cell Block H for many episodes. The Judy you just read above *is* (so far as I can make it) Betty's performance. I threw this little unscheduled glimpse of Judy in this week as a tribute to her.
> 
> I hope you are all well and look forward to reading any comments you may have.
> 
> Hitch ❤


	38. “Where Beauty Lies”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which beauty wins out.

When I came back to the house on Sunday afternoon, I found Mum and Allie sitting in the kitchen with long cold drinks, looking flushed and a little sweaty. Fearing the worst, I began to back out of the room only for Mum to stop me.

“Hey, Deb. You’ll never guess what happened …” she began. I could guess only too well, but made a politely questioning face.

“We only just made it home. I took Allie to our secret spot …” _Yup,_ I thought. _Al fresco._

“That’s nice, Mum,” I said, praying I wouldn’t get any more details.

“But on the way back we ran out of petrol and had to walk to the nearest servo …”

 _“What?_ How’d you manage to run out of petrol?” I asked incredulously.

“The gauge is on the fritz,” Allie said, sounding dejected. She loved that car. I looked at her a little more closely. Under the sweat she was sunburned rather than flushed.

“And when we finally made it …” Mum said, beginning to laugh. Allie dropped her head onto her folded arms with a groan.

“... my bank card wouldn’t work,” Allie supplied in a muffled voice.

“Luckily I had a little bit of cash,” Mum continued. 

“Your last three shillings,” Allie said, raising her head to give Mum an admiring look. _Three shillings?_ Does she have sunstroke? I wondered. And then I twigged. It was from that old movie she showed me, the one that she loves so much.

“So we bought what we could and walked back to the car again,” Mum finished triumphantly.

“My hero!” Allie said. She grabbed hold of Mum and dragged her into her lap and kissed her.

“Why didn’t you just _call_ someone?” I asked, looking away.

When I looked back they were still at it. I waited a while for one of them to notice that I was still there. I cleared my throat noisily, but … nothing. I sighed and went upstairs.

⁂

Bea's head swivelled on her neck like a well calibrated machine part. _Yes!_ she thought. _And on a Sunday morning._ She scurried down the bus and got off at the next stop, backtracking to the shop she had seen, hoping that they had what she wanted.

A few minutes later she was outside Allie's house. She rang the bell and waited eagerly. As soon as she heard footsteps approaching on the other side of the door she couldn’t help but lift excitedly up onto her toes in anticipation of the kiss she was sure she would receive any moment now.

“Hi, Mum.” Debbie stared, nonplussed, at the bunch of flowers that had been thrust towards her. “You shouldn’t have,” she commented flatly, reaching out to take them. Bea whisked them out of her reach.

“They’re not for you!” she said crossly. “Where’s Allie?”

“Nice to see you too!” Debbie retorted with a glimmer in her eye.

“Sorry, baby,” Bea said apologetically. “Good morning,” she stepped forward and kissed her on the cheek. “Now, go and get Allie” she insisted with an impatient jiggle.

Debbie shook her head sorrowfully. “You two …" she began, before retreating into the house and yelling for Allie at top volume. Bea involuntarily cringed at the noise, sure that the neighbours would not appreciate it on a Sunday morning. 

"Coming …" she heard Allie reply from a distance. Hastily she thrust the flowers behind her back again. "I don't know why you won't use your key babe …" she was saying as she approached. Bea stared at her long legs, remembering how they had wrapped around her only yesterday. She swallowed hard, suddenly feeling a little shy and silly. "Why are you standing out there?" Allie asked her with that tolerant look she sometimes gave her; the look that said, "You're ridiculous but I love you. Maybe I even love you _because_ you're ridiculous."

Bea brought out the flowers and held them up for inspection. She opened her mouth to say something but suddenly her voice was gone. Allie looked surprised and then smiled.

"Are those for me?" she asked. Bea nodded emphatically. "Thank you," Allie purred, stepping a little closer. She gave Bea a sharp look as she took them from her hand. "Is this what you were thinking of when you said that roses were not my flower?" Bea blushed to think that Allie had remembered what she had said. 

"Yeah," she said thickly. _"Sun_ flowers for my _Sun_ shine," she said and blushed even deeper as she heard how corny that sounded. Allie laughed and put her arms around her.

"Thank you," she said again. "I love them." Bea wrapped her arms around Allie in return.

"I love you," she said sincerely. And then Allie was kissing her, like she'd hoped she would, with all of the pent up separation of the last twelve hours. A loud whistle made Bea pull away in shock, suddenly remembering that they were on Allie’s doorstep. Knowing that her face must be bright red, she looked down the street. The only person she could see was a petite, older woman walking her dog. She didn’t _look_ like a wolf-whistler.

“Morning, Mrs Ballantyne!” Allie called out with a cheery wave. Not only did she seem unembarrassed to be caught kissing in the street like a teenager, but she was positively glowing, as though she was proud of it. Mrs Ballantyne raised a hand in greeting and gave them a knowing smile. Bea bundled Allie backwards into the house.

“Who was that?” Bea asked, still disbelieving of Allie’s behaviour.

“Mrs Ballantyne. From down the street,” Allie explained. “She’s a sweetheart, though that dog of hers is always barking …”

“Did she just _whistle_ at us?” Bea asked. Allie laughed.

“Yeah, I think she did. You know what they say. _All the world loves a lover._ ”

“Allie …” Bea began. She wanted to say that she felt uncomfortable about strangers commenting on their relationship. That maybe they should be more private from now on. But, looking at her delighted face, she realised that Allie was on a different page to her in this respect. She thrived on people knowing how happy and in love she was. She gave no thought to hiding it and did not expect or fear a negative reaction from anyone. Instead, she expected people to share in her joy. And why shouldn’t she? So far, everyone who knew about their relationship had been nothing but supportive and happy for them. Deb, Franky, Maxine, Dr Westfall, Judy … and now Missis Whatsit from down the road.

“Hmm?” Allie asked, turning her bouquet around in her hands, admiring the bright petals and the huddled swarm of seeds clustered in the centre of each flower.

“Nothing, sweetheart. I love you.”

⁂

"C'mon, Deb," Bea wheedled. "It would be lovely if we could all go together."

"Thanks, Mum, but no way," Debbie replied definitively. "Until you two are out of the honeymoon phase, you’re on your own.”

“But what if it lasts forever?” Allie asked, coming up behind Bea, wrapping her arms around her middle and planting a kiss on the side of her neck. Bea smiled helplessly and sank back against her, loving both the feel of her arms and the thought that they would always be like this.

“Yeurk!” Debbie said dramatically. “This is exactly what I mean. Anyway, Yindi got in touch and asked if I wanted to meet them for lunch today.”

“The paralegal from my case?” Bea asked.

“She’s _so_ nice,” Allie said at the same time.

“Is there something she wants?” Bea asked, her heart speeding up as she thought back to those days in the courtroom. Allie tightened her arms.

“Relax, Mum,” Debbie said. “We’ve been texting for a while and we’re friends. I know she’s a bit older, but … I don’t think that matters, do you?” This last was said pointedly, her eyes flicking between Bea and Allie.

“Um …”

“Definitely not,” Allie said, pressing her face into Bea’s curls distractingly.

“I’m gunna see if Joe wants to tag along, anyway,” Debbie continued. “Think he’ll be up for it Allie?”

“Sure,” Allie said. “But I hope you’re not trying to match make there …”

Debbie laughed. “See you later …” she replied airily, dancing off upstairs.

“So,” Allie said into Bea’s ear. “Just us. Shall we?” Bea stroked her hands up and down Allie’s arms.

"Shall we _what?"_ Bea asked with what she hoped was suggestiveness.

"Get going, of course," Allie said, releasing her grip on her. Bea couldn't tell if she had missed her implication or was being deliberately obtuse. "Can you load those bags into the car while I get the rest of the stuff from the fridge?"

⁂

" _Shit_ ," Allie said emphatically as she got out of the car. "It's really crowded." She scanned the crowd of tourists and locals, all making the most of the fine weather and enjoying the view.

"It's not so bad," Bea said. "Maybe … over there?" She pointed to what might be a slightly less crowded part of the beach. Allie shrugged, already feeling a little out of sorts that so many other people had had the same idea as her. Bea smiled and held out her hand for her to take. It was a gesture of kindness as well as love, reassuring her that they would have a good time wherever they were. 

But once they had picked their spot and spread the blanket on the sand Allie again felt that same disappointment. This was not what she had imagined when she had planned this outing. There were too many people around them, too much noise and activity. She had wanted peace and quiet for them today. She had wanted them to be together, content not to speak even. She berated herself for not coming up with something better. Maybe they should have just stayed at home. 

Bea had sat down beside her on the blanket. After staring out over the ocean for a minute she jumped to her feet. 

"C'mon," she said to Allie, once more holding out her hand. "I know a place."

"You want to leave?" Allie asked, squinting up at her.

"Yeah. Clearly this isn't working for you. It's coming off you in waves."

"Sorry …"

"It doesn't matter. Like I said, I know a place."

Bea had a secretive look about her that made Allie eager to see what she had in mind. She grabbed Bea's proffered hand and sprang to her feet with a grin.

"Let's go," she said, feeling excited about the day once more.

⁂

"Which way now?" Allie asked, slowing down as they reached a fork in the road. Bea hesitated. Allie looked across at her and then slowed to a stop.

"Um … _left_ , I think," Bea said. Allie swung over to the left and followed the curve of the road. Soon they left the last of the residential streets behind and the road seemed to become nothing more than a bare and dusty access road, lined with trees. "Pull up there on the left, by that fence," Bea said. Allie glanced at her questioningly but did as she was asked.

"Where are we?"

"Where do you think we are?" Bea countered. 

"Just behind a housing development somewhere in Werribee," she replied dryly. Bea was quiet for a moment, staring fixedly through the windscreen. 

"We used to live over there, when Debbie was little," she said finally, pointing. 

"Yeah?" Allie said, suddenly interested. "Which house?" Bea pointed again. 

"That one. You can just see the end of it from behind that tree."

"With the bamboo blinds?" Bea nodded and gradually turned her face away. Allie thought she seemed sad and wondered why she had brought them here, but when Bea turned back to her, her face was clear and Allie decided that it was nostalgia, perhaps, rather than sadness, that slowed her movements.

“There’s a place nearby that Debbie and I used to go to all the time,” she said. Allie nodded. Bea was quiet and Allie waited patiently. “I’d like to show it to you,” she said eventually. Allie took her hand.

“I’d like to see it … but we don’t have to do it today. Not if it’s …” Allie floundered for a word, but Bea was already shaking her head.

“No, it’s good. C’mon.”

Shouldering the bags between them, Bea led her along the street, glancing occasionally at the chain link fence that ran along the row of trees. After a minute she smiled.

“It’s still here,” she said triumphantly, showing Allie a rip in the fence. Holding it open for her with one hand, she used her other to take Allie’s hand and steady her. “Careful. There’s a strand of wire just at ankle level …” Allie looked down and stepped over it, unexpectedly moved by Bea’s care and the way that her hand felt as it supported and guided her. Bea stepped through behind her.

“What is this place?” Allie asked, as she looked around and wondered if they were trespassing. Bea gave her a secretive glance that only swelled the thrill of transgression that had already run up her spine into her brain. 

“You’ll see,” she said with a mysterious smile. Allie laughed, suddenly feeling like a kid again. Bea set off through the trees and Allie followed close behind on some path that only Bea could make out.

The trees and brush were thick and filled with the sounds of birds and insects and, as the fence was soon out of sight, Allie was completely disorientated, no longer able to say which way the road and the car lay, and unable to see any distance either ahead or behind. They could be anywhere, Allie thought. It seemed like they were no longer in Melbourne at all but on some adventure, just the two of them, but with a certain and welcome outcome ahead. And then, abruptly, they were out of the trees into the open air and sunlight. Bea stood back to one side, laughing, while Allie took in the view.

“Is this …?” she began confusedly. “This is the K Road Cliffs!” she said in surprise. Bea nodded. “But how did we end up here?” Bea smiled.

“We just came at it from behind. The trail is on the other side,” she explained. Allie nodded distractedly, taking in the beauty of the red cliffs as they reflected in the water of the Werribee River. “I always used to bring Deb here because we could walk from the house and we’d pretty much have the place to ourselves on this side of the water.” Allie nodded again and tore her eyes from the view to appreciate the expression on Bea’s face; so pleased to have surprised and delighted her. The pink light from the river shone on her warmly, picking up the red hues in her hair and brightening her dark eyes. Allie thought she had never looked more beautiful. She stepped over to her and took her hands.

“It’s so beautiful here. What a lovely surprise. Thank you.” Bea returned her look easily and, as Allie placed her lips against her mouth, she leaned happily into the kiss. The earth turned vertiginously beneath Allie’s feet. From behind her closed lids she could easily imagine the stars revolving above them as the planet spun on its axis, launching them through space. But when the kiss ended and she opened her eyes she found herself at home. Her feet were planted on the red earth, Bea’s hands were in hers and she was entirely safe. But she was left with the peculiar illusion of having been away for some time on a lengthy journey. Looking deeply into Bea’s eyes she fancied that she could still see the stars turning there.

“Come on,” Bea urged. “Let me show you our special place.”

The place Bea took her to was a patch of scrubby grass surrounded by shade giving trees that allowed a partial view of the water. It gave a greater degree of privacy than you would expect to get in a popular place like this, as it was located on the opposite side of the river to the public walking and cycling trails. Allie still wasn’t sure if they should be here but, picking up on Bea’s lack of concern, she allowed herself to relax onto the blanket and enjoy the peace.

Bea shifted herself over and rested her head in Allie’s lap. She didn’t say anything and neither did Allie as she drew her fingertips rhythmically through Bea’s curls. It was comfortably cool here in the shade. The air was filled with sounds but they were the sounds of nature, the chirring of insects and the rustling of leaves; the calls of people enjoying the outdoors were pleasantly distant and easy to ignore.

When Allie came to, she was alone and faintly chilled. She sat up and wrapped her arms around herself.

“Bea?”

“Over here,” came that familiar contralto from only a few metres away. Allie scrambled to her feet and crunched over the dry leaves to where Bea was squatting. “It’s still here,” she said, gesturing to a pyramid of small rocks.

“What is it?” Allie asked, squatting down beside her.

“Whenever Deb and I came here we would add another rock to the pile,” she said looking at Allie with a grin. “I can’t believe it’s still here after all this time.” Allie shook her head in disbelief.

“There must be … forty rocks or something in that pile.”

Bea nodded. “We should find another and add it.”

“No,” Allie breathed. “This is for you and Debbie.”

“And now it’s for you too,” Bea replied, standing easily and holding out her hand. “Come on.”

They spent a pleasant hour wandering around the site, picking up and discarding interesting stones. Eventually they settled on one with a stripe through the middle as being the most eye-catching and Allie added it to the stack under Bea approving gaze. Returning to the blanket they ate their picnic and sprawled comfortably together for a while.

“I love you, Bea,” Allie said emphatically, drawing back and looking into her eyes. Bea looked back at her questioningly.

“I know,” she replied, with a cock of the head. “Why’d you say it like that?”

“Because the first time I told you it was in the visitor’s room at Wentworth, and I promised then that I’d say it properly someday.”

Bea smiled. “I remember. Thank you, sweetheart. I love you too.”

“I always thought I would say it at the beach, at sunset or something romantic. But this is way better. This place has its own secret history.”

“Aren’t you gunna kiss me now?” Bea begged, impatiently tugging at Allie’s shirt.

“Nuh uh. There’s more,” Allie said, getting onto her knees and ignoring her imploring look. “I have a proposal for you.” Bea’s eyes went wide. “No, not that,” she said quickly. _Not yet, anyway._ “When you’re allowed to leave Driscoll House, I want you to consider moving in with me.” The surprise was evident on Bea’s face, but before could answer too hastily, Allie continued. “I know you have your pride,” she said. “And you want to get a job and a place, but I want you to just _think_ about it. It’s only a year or so until Debbie goes to uni. It would be crazy to uproot her at this point …” Bea started laughing. “What?” Allie asked, irked.

“Is that why?” she asked, grinning. “You want me to move in with you so that Debbie doesn’t have to move house?” Allie opened her mouth to answer in the affirmative, but a moment’s consideration told her that Bea would know she was lying. She sighed, deflated.

“Okay, fine,” she said. “I want you with me. I want you in my bed every night. It’s what I dreamt about all the time you were in Wentworth.” Bea smiled in triumph. “And of course I don’t want Debbie to leave, but that’s not why I’m asking you.”

“That’s more like it, beautiful girl,” she said, and she reached for Allie and pulled her down on top of her, arranging their bodies together for maximum contact before taking a kiss and then another, until the kisses piled up into a breathless, timeless ... no place. A place where they were the only people and nothing else mattered but the scent of Bea’s skin, the taste of her mouth and the thrill of her body straining against Allie’s.

⁂

The idea shocked her, and her first impulse was to say no. But then she remembered how long the time she spent away from Allie always seemed. Why should she put herself through that? And who was she kidding? She couldn’t stay away from Allie if she tried. If she rented a place for her and Deb, how much time would they actually spend there? Although getting a job and then her own home had always been the target, it now seemed like an unnecessary waste of energy when it was inevitable that they would make a home together in some not so distant future. She always thought that she would need that step, need that independence, but events seemed to have taken her beyond that point now.

So she kissed Allie, and with each kiss she placed herself in Allie’s home, and then her own imagined home, and then back again. She saw herself walking into her house and felt the pride of ownership. She saw herself waking in the morning in Allie’s bed to that beautiful face lying on the pillow next to her. _Pride. Love. Independence. Beauty._ Must she choose? _Yes. No. Yes. No._ Her heart beat out the words. Bea kissed Allie again and pressed herself against her. In the next moment her heavy pulse thudded with a new rhythm; a definite _yes, yes, yes._

“Yes. I’d love to,” she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Has Bea made the right choice? Or did she let passion cloud her judgement? Let me know your thoughts. Hitch ❤


	39. "Whodunit"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which questions are raised.

It was late and she knew she really ought to go to bed, but she was comfortable here on the couch. Nova was on her chest, purring ecstatically, her eyes squeezed shut. Allie occupied her herself with rearranging the fur on the cat’s chest, bringing the two different directions of growth into a satisfyingly tidy crest. She was tired, but the only thing that waited for her upstairs was an empty bed. She grinned to herself as she remembered, for the thousandth time since last week, that Bea would one day, not too distantly she hoped, be moving in and sharing that bed with her. As if summoned by her thoughts Allie’s phone chimed and Bea’s name flashed up on the screen. Hastily she thumbed the message open.

> **Guess who has a job? :)**
> 
> _What? That's amazing babe! What is it?_
> 
> **Judy set me up with a coffee shop. It's only part time and just for two weeks.**
> 
> _You're a barista? Coffee is sexy again!_
> 
> **Ha ha! I'm going to be terrible at it though.**
> 
> _Why would you say that? You'll be wonderful._
> 
> **I don't know about all these different coffees they do now.**
> 
> _Oh babe, you'll pick it up just like that._
> 
> **What's that one that Deb likes? Mochalatte?**
> 
> _MochaCHINO babe!_
> 
> **Oh my god. See what I mean? Maybe I should turn it down.**
> 
> _Don't. You'll be fine. And you need this._
> 
> **It's true. I could really use some recent experience for my CV.**
> 
> _I'll be your first customer._
> 
> **Yeah?**
> 
> _Oh yeah. I'll be ordering a double ristretto venti half-soy nonfat decaf ;)_
> 
> **Alliiieee! Don't even joke about that.**
> 
> _No, seriously. I'll have an Americano and make it easy for you. Anyway, I'll only be coming to perve at you._
> 
> **Will I have to get you barred for lewd behaviour?**
> 
> _Maybe. How little will you be wearing under your apron?_
> 
> **:-o**
> 
> _No, seriously. Tell me ..._

⁂

"That doesn't sound right, Bea," Dr Westfall said, shifting awkwardly in her seat.

"What d'ya mean?" Bea asked sharply.

"Barnhurst is just as overcrowded as Wentworth. And they _don't_ have any special maternity provision there, regardless of what you’ve been told." The psychologist’s gaze wavered painfully. It was that uncertain look, much more than her words, that let Bea know how uncomfortable she was to voice this fact. And, as unwilling as Bea was to have the curtain torn away, she had to know the truth. 

"But Judy spoke to Miss Davidson herself," Bea said. "She said Doreen’s health was a concern. That’s why they moved her. To monitor it. Is she mistaken? Is she lying?"

Dr Westfall shrugged. "I can't think of a single reason for her to lie. And … her record keeping is usually meticulous."

Bea's heart started to speed with anxiety. She launched herself out of her seat and began to move around the room, mostly to relieve the feeling of helplessness but also to see if it would help her mind begin to work out what was going on. Dr Westfall watched her with a concerned frown. 

"You want to help her, I know, but you can't let this derail your progress, Bea." She said in that reasonable tone she had. 

"If I phoned Barnhurst and asked if she was there, would they tell me?" Bea asked, ignoring her last comment. 

"No," Dr Westfall replied firmly, starting to sound slightly annoyed. "And to even try and contact her _could_ be interpreted as a breach of your parole."

"There must be something we can do …" she muttered to herself. 

"Bea …" Dr Westfall began, warningly. But Bea's mind was already racing ahead, considering her options.

⁂

Allie looked at Bea speculatively. Her hand was up, rubbing the back of her neck; a tell-tale signal that she was feeling the pressure. Why was she raising such an emotive subject _now,_ when she had just unloaded all her worries over Doreen and her upcoming job?

"Maybe we should talk about this another time, babe," she suggested. Bea's knee jigged with an excess of nervous energy. 

"I just want to know what you think," she answered with a sharp edge to her voice. "All at once or one at a time?"

"Well," Allie began reluctantly. "They each have their plus points. All at once gets it over with, but would be pretty daunting. One at a time is less daunting, and you get to pick easy or difficult, but you have to go through it several times." Bea glanced at her and then away, her leg speeding up. 

"So … if you had to rank them … who's most difficult?" Allie considered for a moment. Judging by the sick expression on Bea's face, she really didn't want to know.

"I shouldn't have said _difficult_ ," Allie hedged. "They'll all love you and they'll all be lovely _to you._ You really don't need to worry." Bea gave her a flat look.

"If you don't tell me, I'll just ask Debbie," she said. "Which one should I worry about? Your dad?" Allie shook her head. 

"Kaz," Allie admitted reluctantly.

"Kaz," Bea repeated faintly. 

“Dad’s a pussycat. He won’t try to rock the boat.” _Because he knows he has no right to._

“But, _Kaz_ …”

"She's protective of me," Allie explained. "She was there for the whole Ingrid thing and seems to think I'm pathologically incapable of having a successful love life."

Allie tried for a lightness of tone, knowing that this was a touchy subject. Bea had asked about Ingrid last week. When Allie didn't have much to say beyond the bare bones of heartbreak and betrayal, Bea had insisted on looking her up online. Of course, the first photo that came up had to be of Ingrid looking statuesque and imposing at some kind of literary awards. That she was beautiful was an inescapable fact. Allie looked at Bea looking at Ingrid's almond shaped eyes, her long neck and chic cap of dark hair, her slim brown limbs, and tried to explain the woman's arrogance and callousness. Ingrid looked like the full package, but that shiny carapace hid, not a loving heart as in Bea's case, but a multitude of scrabbling vulnerabilities, successfully disguised as remorseless ambition.

"You're every bit as beautiful as her," Allie had told her to a predictable scoffing sound from Bea. "I know you don't always see it, babe, but you are. You've had to be as tough as she has but you haven't lost your soul or your heart like her. She could only see the downside of being associated with me, and chose to stay with her safe husband instead of taking a chance. And thank God. Because I love you _so much more_ than I ever could have loved her."

Bea still stared at the picture for a long, painful moment before swiping the image away. Her eyes, when they met Allie's, were shiny with sorrow and hurt. Allie couldn't bear it.

"Babe …" she began, enfolding her in her arms. But then she had no idea how to continue. No idea of what might comfort and reassure her.

"It's okay," Bea rasped. "I'm sorry you got hurt by her. She's very beautiful, but … if I ever see her I might just black those _pretty little eyes of hers."_ Shocked by Bea's vehemence, Allie gasped out a laugh. Not so much intimidated, then, as furious. And, a touch jealous? Allie smiled. This was much easier to work with than if Bea had felt inferior.

Holding Bea's face in her hands Allie said, "She's a thing of the past, babe. I don’t care about what she did anymore. It's just you and me here now." And it was. And the kisses that followed were full of love on Allie's part, and full of possessiveness on Bea's. And it was a fierce possessiveness that Allie had found excited her to an unexpected degree. After a minute or two of those unbridled kisses she had led Bea upstairs where they barely made it to the bedroom before tugging away each other's clothes. The memory made her smile even as it heated her. Ever since that day there had been something wrong with her bedroom door. It now scraped annoyingly against the carpet, and she suspected that one of the hinges had come loose while Bea had held her pressed up against it, too impatient to even make it to the bed.

"I don't know …" Bea was just saying when Debbie came in. Allie blinked away her amorous thoughts.

"Don't know what?" Debbie asked, opening the fridge and beginning to assemble the ingredients for a prodigious snack.

"Whether it's best for your mum to meet the clan one at a time or all at once," Allie supplied. 

Debbie took a noisy bite out of her apple. "All at once, obviously," she said around her mouthful. Bea looked at her questioningly. "It dilutes the effect," she explained. 

"She has a point," Allie agreed.

"In fact," Debbie continued, gesturing authoritatively with her apple, "we should make up a team for the pub quiz one Friday. That way it's not all about making conversation because the questions will be distracting people." Bea's eyebrows went up and a smile spread across her face. 

"That's … _genius_ ," she said getting up and grabbing Debbie's head between her hands. She gave her a smacking kiss on the lips.

" _Urgh, Mum_ ," she complained, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

⁂

"Er … Bea? You're gunna want to see this …" Allie said tentatively from the lounge room. Bea could see her standing with the TV remote in one hand staring at the screen. The local news was playing out a scene with multiple police vehicles and flashing lights.

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“That’s Wentworth …” Allie supplied, with a worried look. Gravity suddenly gained the power to suck all of the blood in Bea’s body towards her feet.

 _“What ..?”_ The TV droned on.

“ … scene of confusion here at Wentworth Correctional Centre …” the reporter was saying. “We have learned that a small fire was started which has now been brought under control. Riot police have responded to quell the mayhem which has broken out, the second bout of violent disorder that this facility has seen in under a year …”

“Is anyone hurt?” Bea asked. _Please, God, not anyone I love._ Her voice sounded distant to her own ears, as though she was speaking from far away. Thigh muscles trembling lightly, she perched on the edge of the couch.

“Don't know …” Allie said, shifting a little closer. Just then the camera panned to the arrival of an ambulance.

“Paramedics are also on the scene, as you can see,” the reporter continued. “We are getting conflicting reports about a possible fatality as well as a number of injuries …”

 _“Christ!”_ Bea said urgently, surging to her feet.

“Babe …” Allie said, gripping her wrist and examining her face worriedly. “You know how many people are in there. The chances it’s anyone you know are tiny.” Bea nodded, knowing she was right and wanting to be comforted by that thought. But what if it was Franky lying under a sheet somewhere, those mischievous eyes dulled forever? Or Maxine’s body, her work in progress, a long painful process at that, that was ruined; punctured by a shiv or burned up in that fire? Or Boomer? The fiercely loyal Boomer would have thrown herself unthinkingly in the way of harm to protect either of them. She looked at the screen over Allie’s shoulder, expecting at any moment to have her worst imaginings confirmed, but the news had moved onto a new story and she was left with her doubt and fear.

“Bea …”

But not left alone with it. Allie’s arms had come around her and, although her usually clear eyes were clouded with worry, Bea still found the same comfort there as she always did.

“Yeah … I’m alright.” She laid her head down on Allie’s shoulder and leant against her. And Allie held her closely and firmly and Bea was momentarily content to believe that she would always be there for her and would always have this ability to console her.

⁂

Bridget slammed her car door and stared in disbelief at the unfolding scene. _Fuck. This looked bad_. A crowd of curious onlookers and reporters had gathered and blue flashing lights reflected off every watching face. All eyes were turned towards the prison building over which a haze of smoke hung. The screeching of a siren, the grumbling of diesel engines and the _whap, whap whap_ of a helicopter overhead all combined to ramp her anxiety up another notch. She consciously brought her breathing into a calmer pattern as she watched the emergency workers move about purposefully, pointing, grabbing equipment and hustling back and forth. Tears pricked at her eyes as she scanned the throng of onlookers. _Franky, Franky, Franky_ … she chanted silently. But, of course, none of the assembled crowd was wearing teal.

Shifting her briefcase in her hand, she tossed her head and assumed an authoritative attitude. Drawing herself up to her full height, all five feet and three inches of it, she walked confidently over to the main entrance, ignoring the journalists who clustered desperately around her, shouting questions and thrusting cameras in her face. She flashed her pass to the officer on duty and was allowed through the doors.

Reception was almost eerily quiet after the chaos of the car park, but once she entered the prison proper she found that there was almost as much chaos inside as out.

" _Will_ ," she called, spotting the burly officer as he dashed along the corridor. He turned his head and halted as she hurried over to him. "What's the situation?" she asked, careful to sound suitably professional.

"A total shitshow," he said with disgust. "We’re just moving the women from C Block into whatever spaces we can find right now. That whole block will be out of action for weeks.”

“What happened?” she asked anxiously. “Is anyone hurt?” That was the question she really needed to know the answer to. _Franky, Franky, Franky ..._

“The fire was a diversion. While we were all concentrating on evacuating C Block, someone snuck in and shivved Holt," Will answered bleakly.

 _"Holt?"_ Bridget asked. Her mind flashed on the trouble that Franky had been having with Jacs Holt. “Is she badly hurt?”

Will compressed his lips grimly. “Severed her jugular. She bled out in her cell. Seems like Slater found her and led a retaliatory attack against Doyle and her crew. Before you know it we had a full-on riot on our hands …”

“Anyone else hurt?” she asked. Fear was ballooning in her chest but she fought it down, maintaining a professional skin, concerned but not frantic. At least she hoped so.

“Minor injuries,” Will replied. “Smoke inhalation, cuts and bruises … Listen, I’ve gotta go, Bridget …” he said with a touch to her arm. “This area’s all clear. You can use your office if you like …”

She nodded at him, and pressed his arm in return. “Yeah. Go, go …”

Frowning, she watched him hurry away and then proceeded more slowly along the corridor towards her office.

Franky couldn’t have. _Could she?_

⁂

Bea’s phone vibrated hectically in her pocket. _Bridget Westfall._ About time. She had left a series of increasingly frantic voice mails asking the psychologist to get in touch with her about what was going on at Wentworth. Only now, several hours later, was she actually calling her back.

“Hello?”

“Bea ..?” Was it just a poor signal, or did the usually calm psychologist really sound like she was about to come unravelled?

“Yeah.” Silence. “Dr Westfall?” No reply, only a strangled sound in the background. “Dr Westfall? … _Bridget?_ ”

“Yeah … I’m here,” came the reluctant sounding reply.

“What’s happening? Is everyone alright?”

Bea clearly heard her swallow. “Jacs Holt is dead.”

 _“Shit,_ ” Bea hissed, suddenly feeling hot. She sat down on her bed and held her palm to her forehead, as though that could keep the thoughts at bay. “In the fire?” she asked.

“No. _Murdered_ …” Bea stood up again, paced.

 _“Fuck!_ ” she swore vehemently. “Franky ..?” she asked, turning round at the door, dreading the reply.

“I … I don’t know. I haven’t managed to see her yet …” Hearing her voice fade out, a pang of sympathy stopped Bea in the middle of the room.

“But she’s alright, yeah? And the girls?” she asked eagerly.

“Yes. The fire was in C Block. There was some fighting and smashing the place up, but no other serious injuries.”

“Well … that’s something …”

“Yes. Listen, I’d better go …”

“When you’ve spoken to Franky … will you let me know ..?” Bea asked quickly, before she hung up.

“I’ll try, Bea. I’m going to be pretty busy for a while here …”

The line went dead.

⁂

 _“Good riddance,”_ Allie said emphatically, on hearing the news. A woman was dead, true, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe that she didn’t deserve it.

“There’ll be a murder investigation ... “ Bea said, her eyes fixed fearfully on Allie’s. “The police won’t stop until they find out who did it.”

“At least they can’t suspect _you_ , babe,” Allie soothed, pulling Bea tight against her. “Thank God you were already out before it happened.”

“Yeah …” Bea answered, somewhat listlessly.

“What?”

“You know who’s gunna be prime suspect, don’t you?” Bea asked, resting her forehead against Allie’s. 

“Franky,” Allie replied after only a moment’s thought. No wonder Bea was so worried still. 

Bea nodded. “And if it’s not Franky in the frame, then Maxi or Booms …”

“Could she have, d’ya think?” Allie asked. “Is she capable of …” She hesitated to say the word _murder_. “... doing that?” 

Bea looked thoughtful. “I dunno. Maybe … if there was enough at stake.”

Allie wondered what that _enough_ might be. What could make someone abandon her hopes of parole and a future and commit a cold-blooded murder? Not the Top Dog role. Bea had already said that Franky didn’t care about that. A threat to one of her crew? Some information about what had happened to Doreen? Something to do with Dr Westfall? Bea had described how Franky’s tough exterior had shredded away as she had gradually allowed the psychologist into her heart.

Allie wondered if, had she been in Franky's place, a threat to her relationship with the woman she loved might be enough to make her do almost anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's your prime suspect? 
> 
> Thanks for reading. I hope you are all well. Hitch ❤


	40. "Alibi Me"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which some things begin to come into focus.

"I need to find out if Doreen's at Barnhurst," Bea said, sounding a little nervous. She glanced at Allie before turning to Debbie. "And I wondered if you could ask Yindi if there are any legal channels she could use to find out."

"Yindi ..?" Debbie asked with a frown. 

"Because inmates are always entitled to contact with their lawyers … I know it's a lot to ask, but … I can't approach the prison myself without risking my parole …" Debbie nodded as she recognised the truth of this. "And I thought she might have some lawyerly credentials or channels she could use …" Debbie was silent for a moment and Allie could see that Bea was beginning to regret asking. "You know what? It's stupid. Just forget it …"

"No …"

"I'll come up with another way …" Bea went on heedlessly.

"Bea," Allie began gingerly, anticipating that Bea's mind would already be moving on, planning something new and worrying. 

"It's fine Mum," Debbie interrupted. “I'll ask her what she thinks."

"Yeah?" Bea looked relieved. 

Debbie nodded. "She can always say no."

"True. You really don't mind?"

"No. And Yindi's always going on about prisoner's rights,” she said with an affectionate eye-roll. “She's told me more than once how aboriginal people make up almost a third of prisoners despite being only a tiny fraction of the overall population." _Was that really true?_ Allie wondered. _How could that be?_ "So she might be really up for it. If it'll help Doreen."

Allie breathed more easily.

⁂

Mum’s idea was a good one, but Yindi had already done so much for us I wasn’t sure if it was fair to involve her. And then there was Omeo to think about. I didn’t want him to think I was only hanging out with him and Yindi for what I could get out of them. But Mum was so worried about her friend that I couldn't say no. In the end I needn't have worried. We met Yindi at Jock’s for an ice cream. She listened to everything Mum had to say with that little frown she gets when she's annoyed about some injustice or other. She thought for a moment and told us that she didn’t think she could deal with it, but that she knew someone who could. Then she took us to see Ms Pym. Mum repeated the whole thing again whilst Yindi made notes.

I couldn’t really tell what Ms Pym thought about the whole business. If she thought that Mum was worrying about nothing she gave no sign of it. As always she had that professional mask on: polite. Disinterested without being uninterested, if you know what I mean. "Leave it with me," was all that she said. But when Yindi saw us out she said that she reckoned Ms Pym would look into it for us. She has all kinds of contacts, apparently.

It was only the next morning that Yindi called me to say that Doreen was definitely not at Barnhurst. I called Mum straight away and I could tell she was freaking out a bit, so I told her what Yindi had told me. “Enquiries are ongoing.”

According to Yindi, Erica Davidson was next on their list to answer what were sure to be some tricky questions.

⁂

Bridget glanced at the time again and swallowed dryly. The abrupt loud rap on the door made her flinch and she only had a second to compose herself before Matt Fletcher swung the door wide open. 

"Doyle for you, Doc," he announced.

"Thank you, Mr Fletcher," she replied, modulating her voice to be sure that she sounded all the things she didn't feel: calm, professional, reassuring. Franky strolled in from the corridor, cocky smirk in place, top dog attitude writ large in every step. Despite her doubt and fear Bridget couldn't help but relish the sight of her. Not only did she look as sexy as ever, but there wasn't a mark on her; not a bruise or a cut or a burn. She had apparently escaped the riot entirely untouched. She nodded to Matt Fletcher and closed the door behind him.

"Gidge," Franky said, stepping closer and immediately softening some of the attitude. Bridget took a cautious step back. 

"You're okay?" Bridget asked her. "Physically?"

"Yeah," she replied, cranking up her grin by a megawatt or two. "Of course. Firing on all cylinders," she said. Bridget noticed that she was tonguing the inside of her cheek in that way she had. It made her mouth dry and her heart speed up. It always had, from the very first time they had met. As ever, caution warred with temptation and she was forced to back away a little more. Franky pressed her advantage, stepping forwards until Bridget felt herself bump up against her desk. Franky's eyes glowed mischievously. 

"Franky …" Bridget said with the warning tone that she had so often had reason to employ. Franky halted her approach. 

"You missed me, didn't you?" Franky asked. It was doubtless meant to be a flirtatious comment, but Bridget knew her well enough to recognise the insecurity behind the question. Bridget felt her eyes glaze with tears and she looked away as she folded her arms across her chest. "Oh, fuck! You were _worried_ about me," Franky breathed with an air of wonder that made Bridget raise her eyes.

"Of course I was bloody worried about you!" she replied, not bothering to hide her anger. "There was a fire, Franky! A riot. A murder, for God's sake."

Franky's face softened. And when she reached for her, Bridget was so tempted to just allow her to wrap her up in her arms that her body thrummed in anticipation. But at the last moment she put her palm against Franky's bare shoulder and held her back.

"We can't. You know we can't …" she said in an undertone, all the time half hoping that Franky would say _Fuck that_ , and gather her up anyway and kiss her hard. That would be against the rules they had set but, at the moment, her resistance was so low she could almost taste Franky’s mouth on her own. She closed her eyes against the desire, and when she opened them again Franky was gazing down at her as though she could read every thought she had ever had. After a few seconds Franky satisfied herself with briefly brushing her thumb over Bridget's cheek before stepping respectfully away.

"I'm gunna get out of here, Gidge," she promised. "And then you won't have to worry about me anymore. ‘Cause I'll either be with ya or sexting ya … twenty-four seven.” Bridget gave a strained laugh.

“Is that so?” she asked, feeling her cheeks flush at the prospect.

“Yeah,” Franky replied quietly, and Bridget was surprised by the sincerity and want that single word expressed. Her head dropped again as she considered the likelihood that they would never be together. She closed her eyes and gathered her courage before meeting Franky’s gaze once more.

“Then please tell me,” she said against the tightness of her chest, “that you’re not in the frame for Jacs’ murder.”

Franky’s face stilled with apparent surprise. “Nah, I’ll be right. I was with the girls all morning and then Simmo stormed in, blood all over her, and started chucking furniture. That was the first I knew of it …” Bridget let out a breath, feeling the tightness start to ease. “Honest, Gidge,” Franky continued. “ … Ya didn’t _really_ think I had anything to do with it, did ya?”

Bridget smiled at her, but could feel the way her lips trembled and caught as she fought the receding tide of adrenaline. “I knew you wouldn’t _want_ to,” she said honestly. “But I know what this place is like. How people can get backed into a corner … and be forced to do something they wouldn’t normally do.” And although she knew that Franky knew this as well as she did, she still searched her face for signs of disappointment. When her face closed like a fist, Bridget stood up straighter. “But even if you _had,_ ” she clarified, “It wouldn’t have made any difference to my feelings.” Bridget watched as Franky fought against the reflex to lash out. That she didn’t immediately blow up was a major improvement on where she had been when they first met. “Franky …” she pleaded, reaching for her despite herself.

“Nah … it’s fine,” Franky said, holding up one hand. “I don’t blame you, Gidge. I know I don’t have a perfect track record. But I really wouldn’t do anything that could stop my parole.” She gave Bridget a direct look. “All I’m thinking about is getting out …” It was all Bridget could think about too.

“Me too, baby,” she said, risking a brief caress of Franky’s bare arm. “Me too.”

⁂

Rarely had Bea been so eager for a session with Dr Westfall. She paced the corridor outside the consulting room she kept at Driscoll House. _Ten minutes late._ Judy had already wheeled her chair back out of her office and glared at her for her impatience, but somehow she couldn’t stand still. When her phone buzzed in her pocket her motion was finally arrested.

“Dr Westfall?”

“Bea …”

“Everything alright?” she asked anxiously.

“Yes … Only … we just heard that Erica Davidson has resigned.” Bea felt her eyebrows jump up her forehead. But perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised. There had been a murder and whilst the police took their time finding the culprit, someone had to carry the can. It was often trial by media these days, and the press had been baying for blood ever since Holt’s death had been announced. “The place is in uproar,” Dr Westfall continued. “Miss Bennett has stepped in and she needs me here all day. So, I’m afraid I won’t make our session today.”

“Okay,” Bea replied, swallowing her disappointment. “Can you tell me …” How could she phrase it without putting the psychologist in a difficult position? “Do the police have a suspect?” she finally asked.

“No, I don’t think so. They’re interviewing everyone. But you don’t need to worry about our mutual friend, Bea. She assures me that her hands are clean.”

Bea gave a shaky laugh. _“Thank fuck_ for that,” she said feelingly, before wishing she could take it back. But Dr Westfall just laughed in return.

“I’m with you there,” she replied. “You have a big day tomorrow, Bea. How are you feeling?” she asked. Bea noticed her changing the topic to something less personal but didn’t blame her, even though the thought of tomorrow’s ordeal made her heart thud anxiously. She gave a nonchalant shrug even though Bridget couldn’t see her.

“Okay, I suppose.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve been in the world of work, but I think you’ll find it’ll come back to you very quickly. Remember. You can do this. You’re in a good place for this development.”

“Yeah … I just don’t want to stuff it up, now that Judy went out on a limb to recommend me.”

“Don’t think about that. Just concentrate on doing the best you can each day. Thinking about the larger consequences will only make it harder.”

“Yeah,” Bea replied with an internal wince. She couldn’t help but think of Debbie and Allie and of how much they needed her to succeed.

“Bea … it’s just coffee!” Bridget said. And the common sense of that quashed her fears. It was just coffee. It’s not like she was planning to make a career of serving drinks. This was just the first step to a new life.

⁂

"You really didn't need to do this, you know," Bea told Allie. 

"I know."

"You could have just taken Debbie to school as usual."

"Debbie's nearly eighteen. She really doesn't need me to drive her every day."

 _"I know,_ " Bea echoed wryly. 

"Besides … I wanted to,” Allie said with a glance and a smile. Bea smiled too. Truth be told, she was glad. An extra few minutes with Allie was always welcome, but she especially liked it when Allie drove her places. She could sit back, relax, and watch Allie’s hands controlling the car. There was something about her sure confidence behind the wheel that Bea found very attractive. Was it possible to fall in love with a pair of hands on a steering wheel? Bea thought it might be.

“You have enough to think about this morning,” Allie continued. “Without trying to figure out the buses and still get there in plenty of time.” At those words, Bea was reminded of what lay ahead. The nervousness that had afflicted her since she woke, and which had been temporarily allayed by Allie’s distracting presence, swirled into her stomach again. She took a deep breath. It was just coffee, she said to herself, reminded of Dr Westfall’s words. How hard could it be? How much could she muck it up? Plenty, she thought, but giving someone the wrong drink was hardly a life or death mistake. Unless she spilt something scalding all over a customer ...

Drawing the car to a halt, Allie switched off the engine and reached over to take one of Bea’s hands from where it lay in her lap. Bea raised her head and looked about. They were here already. It seemed like she had lost a few minutes somewhere along the way. The time had been absorbed by her anxious thoughts. Allie was looking at her with that clear blue gaze of hers; the look that had no trouble communicating to Bea all of her love and her infinite patience in dealing with her minor insecurities.

Allie squeezed her hand. “I think you know what I’m gunna say …'' she began.

“I’m gunna do great?” Bea guessed. “It’ll be fine? I’ll learn it all in no time?” They grinned at each other.

“How about this then,” Allie said. “I love you. I have every faith in you. You’re more than capable of this.” At that Bea breathed more easily and felt her shoulders drop into a more relaxed position.

“Thank you …” she said. It was exactly what she'd needed to hear.

"Will you come over when you're finished and tell me all about it?"

"Course," Bea replied.

"And … will you send me a selfie of you wearing your apron?" She asked mischievously. 

"I will not!" Bea retorted in mock outrage. Allie pulled a face, pretending to be upset.

"But maybe I can bring it home with me one day," Bea said, just to see her lips curve and her eyes glitter. She leaned towards her in anticipation and Allie didn't hesitate to kiss her. At first it was sweet and affectionate, but soon it turned more heated. She wound her fingers into her hair and pulled her closer. Bea managed to grab a quick breath between kisses before Allie's mouth was on hers again, tugging at her lips and teasing her with the tip of her tongue. With her pulse jumping in her throat, Bea felt heat blooming in her lower belly. Now was not the time for this and yet, somehow, she couldn't find the will to draw away, until … the blast of a car horn caused them to leap apart guiltily. 

Bea looked around blearily. Which bastard had parped at them like that? A moment later she realised that she had caught Allie's horn with her own elbow, and now everyone in the street was looking curiously at the car. Worst of all, a tiny grey-haired woman who was unlocking the coffee shop had stopped what she was doing and was staring in their direction. Bea fervently hoped that she wasn't her new boss.

" _Shit,_ " Bea muttered. She slid down in her seat knowing that her face had turned bright red. Allie, of course, was laughing helplessly. 

"You really know how to make a good first impression, babe," she said when she could speak again. 

"It's not funny Allie. I have to work with these people," Bea protested. 

"Relax babe. You're not even at work yet. Anyway, everyone's entitled to a private life."

"I wouldn't call that _private_ , would you?" Bea asked, only for Allie to descend into another fit of laughter. 

⁂

Allie watched Bea across the table as she told them about her day. The light in her eyes and the flush at the top of each cheek told of her excitement at how her first day at work had gone. Her gestures were large and exuberant, her voice more confident, and Allie couldn't take her eyes off her.

"Florence is _such_ a character," Bea was explaining. "She's only five foot nothing, but you'd think she was Xena or something the way she carries on. Talk about bossy. And every other word is 'bugger'. It's nothing like I expected. I thought it would be one of those characterless corporate places, but it's really just a friendly neighbourhood hangout …"

Allie didn't think she'd ever heard Bea talk so much. To see her smiling and confident and fully engaged with this new experience was as good as getting the jackpot on a scratchy. She reached across the table to stroke her hand just as Debbie's phone went into a paroxysm of music and vibration. 

"No phones at the table," Bea objected automatically as Debbie looked at the screen. 

"It's Yindi," Debbie said with a significant glance at her mother. Bea gave a tiny nod of permission and Debbie took the call, wandering over to the kitchen window as she spoke. Allie took Bea's hand in earnest. She could see that Bea was listening hard to Debbie's brief murmurs, but it really wasn't possible to glean much. Allie gripped Bea's hand and waited with her, wishing she could do more. 

"Ms Pym's hit kind of a dead end," Debbie announced on ending the call. "Erica Davidson can't be found …"

"What?" Bea said, sounding startled. "What does that mean?"

Debbie shrugged. "She might have gone to ground to avoid all the media interest in her. Yindi said it's possible that she's hiding from the Holt clan, fearing that they'll blame her for Jacs Holt's death and come looking for revenge."

Bea's head dropped but not before Allie had seen the anger in her eyes and in the angle of her jaw. She shifted uneasily. She couldn't help but feel that Bea was being dragged back into all this prison drama at exactly the wrong time. If she allowed her fear for her friend to overrule her good sense she could end up risking all the progress she had made. And the new life that Allie was counting on.

"But there is something that Ms Pym did find out," Debbie continued. "Erica Davidson's been seen lunching with one particular man several times lately. Yindi reckons that if they can identify him, it could be a major clue."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that. Please leave a comment if you can. 
> 
> I"m thinking I may not have a new chapter for you next week. Sorry to disappoint, but a week off will do me good. 40 weeks in a row's not bad though!
> 
> Happy Christmas everyone. Let's hope that the new year brings us all health and happiness. Hitch ♥️


	41. "Apex"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which both a peak and a tipping point are reached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Welcome back from our brief hiatus. Here's a reminder of where we left off.
> 
> Previously on Inside Out ... Bridget was relieved to find out that Franky was unhurt after the fire and riot and was not the one who killed Jacs, Bea started her new job at the coffee shop, and Erica first resigned and then disappeared, after being seen in the company of an unknown man.

Franky released a breath and surreptitiously shook out her arms a little as she headed back to the unit. The detectives had clearly been alerted that she and Jacs had history. Consequently, they had questioned her closely, though she didn't think they had been able to trip her up at all. Even if she _had_ said something that suggested that she'd have been happy to shiv Jacs in the neck, she had a decent alibi, and there was no sign of them having any physical evidence that pointed either to her or any of her crew as possible suspects.

The atmosphere in the prison was tense, though. The screws were prowling the corridors like nervous dogs: hackles raised and ears pricked for trouble. The women were already twitchy after the fire and the riot. Add in a police investigation, overzealous screws, and the overcrowding caused by the extra women from C block and Franky thought it was just a matter of time until something bad kicked off.

Boomer was waiting impatiently by the door as Franky strolled in, loose-limbed and confident as could be.

"Alright, Franky?" the big woman asked, her face contorted by a momentary frown.

"All good, Booms," she replied as she reached up and wound one arm around her friend's neck. Boomer beamed. The women's well-being depended on Franky and, exhausting as it might be, a confident front made their confidence swell in turn. Coming further into the unit, she dragged Boomer with her and looked around. Liz was enjoying a cuppa and knitting some new monstrosity. Franky fervently hoped that it wasn’t intended for her. Liz barely glanced up from her busy hands, but Franky was sure she was aware of everything that was going on, and was watching over them like always. Of their two newest unit members, Sky and Iman, there was no sign. 

"Where's Maxi?" she asked. 

Boomer shrugged. "Medical or somefin, she said."

"Not been called in by the cops, then?" Franky asked. She knew that they would all be questioned and, whilst they didn't exactly need to get their stories straight, it would be helpful if they didn't contradict each other in any way. Hearing the squeak of shoes hurrying down the corridor, Franky turned just in time to see Maxine hastily round the corner.

"Franky," she said, taking her by the elbow. "A word." And she drew Franky away into the privacy of her cell.

"What's up?" Franky asked, puzzled by her expression. 

"Lindsay stopped me just now. She’s heard that apparently Jacs had put the word out amongst her crew that you were to be taken down." Maxine paused, allowing Franky to take this in. 

“A coup, hey?” Franky asked with a quirk of her eyebrow. “There was still life in the old girl then, after all. Well, not anymore, obviously,” she smirked.

"The kind of coup you weren't meant to survive," Maxine clarified with a glare.

"What ..?" Franky asked, scoffing. "First I heard of it …"

"Mm, exactly …" Maxine replied meaningfully.

Franky thought for a moment. "So, you’re saying ... if the cops get wind of it, I'll be top of their list again? _Shit_."

"Oh, they’ll get wind of it alright,” Maxine said heavily. "Simmo's in with them now, no doubt spilling all the details and dropping you right in it."

⁂

Allie fidgeted as she sat at the desk that occupied one corner of her bedroom. She glanced at the time again. _Soon_. She could feel that her face was already warm and her body primed in expectation. But that first day that Bea had shown up in her running gear, straight from work, Allie had been totally unprepared.

Unusually, Bea had let herself in with her key and the first that Allie, lost deep inside some almost impenetrable paragraph, had known of her presence was the sound of the shower running. 

"Babe? That you?" she had asked from her bedroom doorway. 

"Yeah. Just be a minute," Bea had called back over the sound of the water. Allie returned to her desk and quickly became absorbed in her work again. At some point she became aware that the sound of the shower had stopped. When she looked around, there was Bea, standing in her bedroom, wrapped only in a towel, her hair tied back at the nape of her neck. The combination of bare shoulders and the undercut that Allie had always loved was overwhelming enough, and Allie suspected she was gaping. But the hint of a suppressed smile on Bea's face and the downward glance she gave as she untucked the towel and allowed it to drop to the floor brought her to her feet with surprised delight. _So confident today._

"Hell _-llo,_ " Allie said in a tone that wouldn't have shamed a barroom lothario. Bea chuckled and blushed. She made a modest beckoning motion with one hand, but Allie was enjoying the opportunity to just _look_ at her too much to bring it to an end so soon. She loved the contrast between the slight tan that Bea’s face, arms and legs now had and the paleness of her back, bum, belly and breasts. It reminded her that these parts of Bea were just for her. Not even the sun got to see or touch those places, only her. She smiled to herself and sat back down in her chair. She laid her arms on the armrests so that her hands dangled nonchalantly off the ends and stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. _This was quite a show._

" _Allie_ ," Bea protested with that almost imperceptible turn of her upper body that revealed she was feeling a little exposed. Allie shook her head and raised her hand with the index finger pointing at the ceiling. She twirled it a little. Bea raised one brow in an attempt to look scandalised, but Allie could see a pleased gleam in her eyes. 

"Turn around," Allie instructed her. Bea folded her lips and gave what was supposed to be an annoyed glare. But Allie had seen the tell-tale flush climbing up her chest and neck. After a moment, Bea smiled, shook her head and tutted quietly. Allie repeated her turn around gesture and Bea complied by turning ninety degrees. The side on view was alluring, especially the profile it gave: the arrogant jut of her breasts matched the lift of her chin, whilst the tender curve of her bum caused Allie's heart to give a gentle pang. She sat forward alertly in her seat. "Keep going," Allie told her with a dry swallow. Bea turned her body another ninety degrees but kept her head turned to the side so that she could still see Allie. "Face the wall," Allie told her, not sure that Bea would comply this time, but after a pause she turned her head away.

After taking a few moments to appreciate Bea's beauty and poise, her elegant spine, her unbroken strength, Allie stood and stripped herself as quickly and quietly as she could. Then she padded stealthily across the carpeted floor until she was standing as close to Bea as she could without touching her. She wanted very badly to touch her, but she held herself back, allowing the anticipation to heat them both. She thought about how lucky she was to be the one that got to be with Bea like this. She thought about laying the flats of her hands against Bea's beautiful, strong back. Or maybe resting them on the curves of her hips. Then she could press her bare front against Bea's back in a way that she knew would be incredibly satisfying. Whilst she thought it over, she dipped her head a little and allowed her breath to curl over Bea's shoulder and watched with appreciation as her skin flickered like that of a horse troubled by flies. She heard Bea sigh and watched her throat move as she swallowed. Allie's hands were poised. _Hips? Ribs? Boobs?_ She asked herself. 

_"Allie …"_ Bea whispered, an agony of waiting in that one word.

And the spell was broken. Allie instantly took Bea’s breasts into her hands and simultaneously pressed against her back. Arousal bloomed abruptly in every part of her body, so strongly that she groaned. A groan which Bea echoed only half a second later. Allie smiled to hear it and know that she felt it too. Bea arched her chest into her hands before reaching round to Allie's rear, pulling her tight against her, causing Allie’s breath to vanish. Feeling the smooth curve of Bea’s backside pressing against her groin caused her muscles to clench and her nerves to tauten to a pitch that made it difficult to think. Her pulse was hard and heavy and she could feel it jumping in every part of her body. Tightening her hands on Bea's breasts, she ran her lips and teeth desperately against her throat where she could see the blood leaping beneath the skin. Bea gasped and tipped her head back willingly, extending her throat and Allie's access to it. She nipped and sucked and kissed every part she could reach as she clumsily walked Bea over to the bed.

Laying her down on her belly and covering her with her own body, Allie stroked and touched her until she quivered under her. Unbearably aroused, Allie gasped into the red curls as she used her weight to press Bea onto the hand she had slid between her legs. Lips against her neck, fingers working, Allie listened to the changing sounds of Bea's breath. It came first faster, then harsher until it caught in her throat in the way that let Allie know she was getting close to her orgasm. Feeling that neither of them could wait much longer, she gave her a little more pressure and a little more speed until she groaned and shook beneath her. There was a noisily indrawn breath, a tense silent pause, and then a mighty convulsion rocked Bea as she came wetly against Allie's hand. Allie was so turned on by this responsiveness of Bea’s that she only needed to press her slippery, swollen clit against Bea briefly before climaxing herself.

A minute later they had rearranged themselves more comfortably on the bed. "That was hot," Allie said once she had managed to catch her breath. Bea nodded, pink and pleased. "Did you like that?" Allie asked her. 

"Yeah … that was intense," Bea replied wistfully, fiddling with a lock of Allie's hair. 

"What?" Allie asked as she looked into her eyes, detecting some sadness there. 

"It was amazing. I just … missed our kisses," she explained with a tremulous smile and a shy glance away. Allie nodded. 

"Me too," she replied. Bea's liquid eyes returned to her, almost disbelieving. Allie closed the slight gap between them slowly and laid her lips on Bea's and soon lost herself in the deliciousness of her mouth, content to spend the rest of the afternoon showing her girl how much she loved her. 

Since that day, Bea had so regularly appeared in her doorway, damp and naked, ready to peel off Allie's clothes and lay her on the bed, that her body now anticipated it from any time after eleven, when she knew Bea would be leaving work. It made concentrating difficult and her office chair had developed a squeak as a result of all the squirming she was doing, but Allie had no complaints. These warm summer days felt like a special bubble of time, a gift from the universe, the memory of which she knew she would treasure for her whole life. 

⁂

Bea smiled as she ran. She probably looked like a weirdo, red-faced, sweaty and pelting full tilt along the road smiling like a lunatic, but she couldn't seem to stop. During the last couple of weeks she had slipped into a routine that suited her very well. Since getting a job she was granted a new freedom from the sessions and appointments she was usually expected to attend. And what with Dr Westfall's continued absence, owing to her engagement with the additional stresses at Wentworth, Bea found that she unexpectedly had more time to spend as she wanted. 

Each morning she took the bus to her early shift at the coffee shop and worked her tail off until eleven. Then she got changed into her running gear and headed over to Allie's. After a quick shower they would make love for an hour or two. Or more. However long they could get away with, until Allie went to collect Debbie. Bea would plan, shop for and prepare a meal for them all: fresh fish, chewy bread and bright oil, crisp salads and colourful veggies. She found it such a comfort to be able to provide a proper meal for them, paid for from her own money, made with her own hands. For the first time in a long time she felt like a proper mother to Debbie. Then the three of them would spend the evening together and eventually Allie would drop her, yawning, back at Driscoll House where she would sleep a deep, exhausted sleep until her morning alarm. 

And she couldn't get enough of any of it. She had never lived like this before. She felt like a sleek, well-fed animal at the peak of its existence. An apex predator pounding the city streets, invulnerable. She was fit, healthy and well rested. She had purpose and meaning. Work. Pleasure. Appetite. Satiation. And, having lived so scantily for so many years, she didn't take it for granted. This was what she was meant for. 

⁂

"Franky," Lindsay said with a sideways gesture of the head. "Someone wants a word. About Jacs."

"Who?" she asked sharply. If people wanted to talk to her they came to her, not the other way around. In answer Lindsay just raised her eyebrows. Maxine intercepted the look. 

"Perhaps we'd better find out." Franky looked at Maxi in surprise. The taller woman shrugged in response. "We need info," she replied. "Sticking our heads in the sand isn't gunna get us anywhere." Franky stared at Maxine. It gave the appearance that she was thinking about it, but in actuality she trusted Maxi implicitly and nearly always followed her advice. 

"Boomer!" she yelled. The big woman appeared out of her cell as if she'd been summoned from a magic lamp. She gave Franky a questioning look. "Field trip," Franky explained. Boomer smiled eagerly and drew herself up taller. 

"Right-o," she replied happily. “Which bitches are for it?” she asked, pounding one fist into the other palm.

Liz cast them a nervous look. "Booms," she said warningly.

"What?" Boomer asked, apparently annoyed to have her anticipation interrupted. 

"Just … don't go crazy, alright?" Liz cautioned. 

"You’re not my mum'," she replied defensively. "I know what I'm doin’. I'm jus' gunna look out for Franky and Maxi, that’s all."

"Okay, love," Liz replied placatingly. Maxine reached out and stroked Liz's upper arm. She nodded almost imperceptibly to reassure Liz know that she wouldn't let Boomer go bunta and get herself into trouble. 

"Let's go then, ladies," Franky announced with a confident clap of her hand against Boomer's mighty arm. Lindsay led them away, checking in front and behind for nosy screws. Franky wondered if she was walking into a trap, but Lindsay had been loyal so far, and it hardly seemed likely that she would be allowed to bring so much muscle to an ambush. Besides, who was there to challenge her now that Jacs was gone? So she gave her walk its customary loose swagger and allowed herself to be taken to the kitchen.

"In there." Lindsay indicated the door to the equipment room. Franky stared at the closed door. _Fuck_. She was no doubt expected to open it and deal with whatever or whoever lay within. It could easily be a trap but, on the plus side, it was a small room. It wasn't like a whole crew could be waiting inside. If it was just one person, surely she was a match for whoever it could be. She thought of Gidge and their future and hesitated. Perhaps she should just walk away. Sometimes she thought that the idea that she could one day be somewhere other than Wentworth, living in the daylight, basking in the glare of the love of a woman like Gidge, was just a fantasy. Sometimes she knew she didn't deserve anything other than a life wasted within these walls. Other days, days when she had spent some time with Bridget, freedom felt very close. What if whoever was behind that door could give her the information that would allow her to wriggle away from the danger of the cop's suspicions? On the other hand, what if she ended up in one of those fucked up prison scenarios that meant more time? Or, what if she ended up in a fight for her life that left her with no time at all?

She teetered on the apex of the decision. _Open the door or walk away?_ She glanced first at Boomer and then at Maxine. They each gave a nod, both ready to take action in her defence, if necessary. Ignoring the dread pounding of her heart, attempting to think only of a hot car and a certain even hotter girl, she reached for the door handle with her usual cocky grin pulling dishonestly at her face. When the door swung open that smile faltered as her past and her future smeared together messily in front of her.

“ _Kimmie_ ,” she blurted, in shock. The almost forgotten endearment slipped from her lips before she could prevent it. Kim smiled stiffly and held out one hand in invitation.

⁂

“I’ll get it!” Bea yelled in response to the loud knock on the front door. “Yindi,” she said in surprise on finding the young paralegal on the doorstep. “Come in.” She stood back and allowed her to enter the hallway. “Debbie’s just upstairs …”

“No, I wanted to talk to _you_ , actually,” Yindi replied with a flash of concern in her dark eyes. Bea led her into the kitchen feeling wary of what this visit might mean. She filled and switched on the kettle while Yindi settled herself at the table and took a file folder from her bag. From it she removed a photograph which she handed to Bea. It showed a white man, balding, probably in his fifties. He wore a smart suit and a self-satisfied smile but, despite his good turnout, Bea noticed something lumpy and thuggish about his face. 

"Is this the man Erica Davidson was spending so much time with?" she asked.

Yindi nodded. "His name is Derek Channing. He's a superior of Erica's from the Department of Corrections. We've been looking into him." Yindi's expression was unreadable as only a lawyer's can be.

"And ..?" Bea prompted her, forgetting all about the tea and sitting down at the table. She glared at the photo as though that would make it give up its secrets. 

"And … he has a successful professional life. He's managed to turn more than one mismanaged prison around, so he's in the good graces of his bosses. But … it seems to us that he's living above his means. Enormous house, flash cars, exotic holidays … There's more to him than meets the eye but, even with Josephine's contacts, we've hit a wall. He's up to something but … there's no proof. Or none that we've managed to find, at any rate."

Bea folded her lips in disappointment. "What's in the file?"

"All the public records we could find on him. Qualifications, employment history, finances, property …" She passed the file over to Bea. "This is as far as we can go … Anything more … well. Anything more would have to be come by … discreetly,” she admitted, looking down at her lap. “Ms Pym can't risk anything like that. Sorry."

Bea scoffed. "Nah. You've done me a huge favour getting this far," she reassured her.

"I just wish we could have found your friend ..." Yindi continued. “You must be so worried …”

Bea nodded, though she was already tuning out her voice, her mind turning over the possibilities for her next move. Doreen was out there somewhere, and if this man, Derek Channing, knew something about what had happened to her, he had to be made to reveal it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We were supposed to get a little further than this, plotwise, in this chapter, but our favourite lovebirds insisted that they needed some lovey-dovey time. And who am I to deny them that? 😉
> 
> Thanks for reading folks! You know what to do 🔽


	42. "The Test"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which nerves are tested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. Hope you are well. Here's the latest chapter. I hope you like it.

Despite her misgivings, Franky stepped into the small room and closed the door behind her. Whatever Kim had in mind, she was no threat to her physically and Franky needed to find out what this was all about.

“What do you want Kim?” she asked, deliberately keeping her face stone like.

“What happened to _Kimmie?_ ” the petite woman asked flirtatiously as she brought one hand up as though to caress Franky’s face. Franky grabbed her wrist sharply and squeezed it until Kim winced. She gave her a warning look.

“You can cut that the fuck out,” Franky said brusquely. “Stop messing about. What do you want?”

Kim’s face had lost its animation and her eyes had dulled at Franky’s words. Life and colour drained from her as Franky watched. It was as though she aged a decade in a few seconds. Franky felt a pang of sympathy. She had had a good time with Kim, once. They had had lots of no-strings fun and Franky had been pleased for her when she had been released, and hoped that she might make it. But no, she had fucked up and ended up back inside. By that time Franky had moved on. Gidge was the only one for her. The thought caused a rush of feeling that set her pulse speeding. The untameable Franky Doyle was now a one woman woman. Crazy how things could change.

“This is crazy,” Kim muttered to herself, unknowingly echoing Franky’s own thoughts. She ran a hand through her hair and turned away, pacing anxiously, in so far as she could in the small space. Franky waited. “I guess it’s true, then?” Kim finally asked. She came to a stop in front of Franky and raised her pain-filled eyes to Franky’s. “You really do love her?”

Franky rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Is this what you brought me here for? To interrogate me about my love life?” She made as if to turn away in disgust.

Kim grabbed her arm. “Wait …” Franky twisted out of her grasp and slammed her up against the door.

“Touch me again and they’ll be carrying you out of here in a paper bag,” she growled. Surprised by the fear in Kim’s eyes, she loosened her hold a little. “Say what you came here to say,” she told her, getting into her face. “Or I’m leaving.” Kim’s eyes skittered away nervously. She swallowed hard.

“I did it for you, babe,” she said faintly. Franky searched her face for more, but she still evaded her gaze.

“Did what?” she asked harshly, leaning in a bit more, putting the pressure on. Kim’s eyes teared up and she whimpered.

"I got sent back here because I wanted to be with you. But then you didn't want me anymore. I've been waiting for you to come around," she said, squirming in Franky’s grasp. "I tried everything. I changed my hair. Wore skimpier tops. Got this tattoo …" she peeled back her sleeve to show the dripping heart scored into her inner arm. The letters _F_ and _D_ scrolled within it. "But you never even noticed." Kim gave her a provoking look, daring her to lie. Franky shrugged. It was true; she hadn't noticed Kim, not even on the edge of her field of vision, not for weeks. "And so … I did it … _Jacs … For you_ ,” she whispered.

Franky’s heart stood still and all sound faded away. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she asked when her blood finally resumed rushing around her body. Kim didn’t reply but held her gaze defiantly. A pool of tears sat, unshed, on each of her lower lids.

“I heard she was going to kill you,” Kim explained, her eyes still not leaving Franky’s. “I couldn’t just let it happen.” Franky chewed the inside of her cheek and watched the tears finally overspill and run down Kim’s face. And even though she was half expecting what came next it still shocked her when the words came, fervently, from Kim’s unhappy lips. _“I love you, Franky …”_

Franky roared in frustration and shoved Kim hard, so that she bounced off the door. She turned her back on her and moved as far from her as she could. Holding her pounding head in her hands she tried to calm her chaotic thoughts.

“It was a mistake wasn’t it ..?” Kim said tentatively.

 _“Ya think?”_ Franky yelled, slamming her hand against the shelving in front of her, making the pans rattle alarmingly.

“I thought … When I heard about Jacs’ plan, I thought that this was my chance to show you how I feel … That if I did this for you, you would realise how much I love you, and … you’d forget about her.” Franky turned around and looked at her. She tried to formulate a reply to that, but Kim beat her to it. “But it doesn’t work like that, does it?” she said, her voice creaking. She tried to blink away the tears. “You probably can’t forget about _her_ any more than I can forget about _you._ ” As angry as she was, Franky couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret as she heard those words. How would she feel if Gidge took up with someone else and wouldn’t even spare her a glance, in the way that she had been ignoring Kim since she got back to Wentworth? Just the thought made her want to fold her body up around the ball of pain in her belly.

Franky squeezed her nose between her thumb and index finger before rubbing her hand across her eyes. She sighed. “So is that all this little meeting was for?” she asked mercilessly. “Cos I reckon we’re done here …”

“The shiv,” Kim cut in quickly. “It’s behind the air vent grill just to the left of the loading bay door.” There was a silence. Franky gave a dramatic shrug, hands leaping.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” she asked in exasperation, eyes flashing.

“My DNA will probably be all over it,” Kim replied calmly. “I know that the cops are sniffing around you. So … if you feel like they’re getting too close, just arrange for them to find it and your troubles are over.”

“Dob you in?” Franky asked incredulously.

Kim shrugged. “If you like,” she said. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it _matters,_ ” Franky insisted. “I’m no lagger,” she said, although that was not what she meant at all. Kim gave a small, sad smile.

“I know, babe,” she said quietly. She reached out and gave Franky’s hand a squeeze. This time Franky made no attempt to stop her.

⁂

After ten minutes Allie closed the file. She dropped it down onto the couch beside her and gave Bea a measured look. 

"I don't know what Yindi thinks we can do with this," she said steadily. She concentrated very hard on not sounding alarmed by the excited way Bea had thrust it into her hands or the determined gleam in her eyes. 

"Follow it up," Bea said firmly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Find out what he knows. Find Dor."

"But how?" Allie asked. "We're not lawyers. Or investigators. Plus …" She gave Bea an imploring look as she reached out to stroke her face. "You can't get yourself into any trouble, not when you're on parole."

"I'm not planning on doing anything _illegal_ , Allie. I just wanna know what he knows about this whole thing."

"So you're what? Just gunna walk up to him and say, Hey. Why don't you tell me all about this prisoner and how you made her disappear?" Bea tsked and stood up, restlessness in every line of her body. She moved across the lounge room to lean against the kitchen door frame. She had that look on her face; that stubborn one which meant that Allie ought to be careful not to push her into the arms of some crazy scheme just by her resistance to it.

"I don't know!" Bea half yelled in frustration. "I need some kind of an in with him …" she said, scuffing her toes against the carpet. Allie nodded thoughtfully.

"I'm gunna make us some food," she said decisively. "I always have my best ideas when I'm chopping veggies." She stood up and headed into the kitchen, making sure to trail one hand over Bea's out-thrust hip in passing, finishing up with a pat on her bum cheek that had Bea screwing up her lips in an attempt to suppress a smile. She turned and watched Allie as she bent over to look in the fridge. Allie could tell what was on her mind now, and it wasn't Derek Channing and it wasn't veggies either. There was little chance of making anything of her changed mood, however, what with Debbie being just upstairs. But at least she was distracted, Allie thought smugly. 

Sitting down for their meal a little later, Bea and Allie filled Debbie in on the information that Yindi had supplied.

“I’m thinking we should take it to the police,” Allie finally concluded. She said this reluctantly, knowing Bea would not like the idea, and having a fair bit of antipathy towards the cops herself.

“A cop wouldn’t piss on a crim like Dor if she was on fire,” Bea objected. “Never mind think she’s worth looking for.” Debbie’s eyebrows shot up and Allie guessed she’d never heard her mum say something like that before.

“You don’t know that,” Allie said reasonably, eyeing Debbie meaningfully. “There are good and bad cops …”

"Yeah, I guess," Bea conceded, having caught Allie's look. "But you should have seen how the police treated us when they were investigating Mrs Jackson's death. No one with a conviction can get a fair go of it with the cops."

Debbie, who had been following this exchange with her head turning side to side as it progressed, butted in. "What about a journo?" They both turned to her questioningly. "This is just the kind of thing an investigative journalist would love to get her teeth into."

"You're not putting yourself forward are you?" Allie asked, only half joking, knowing not only of Debbie's journalistic ambitions but of her willingness to put herself into any kind of situation to help her mum out.

Debbie scoffed. "No! I was thinking of Michael Storey. She did a great job when she interviewed me about Mum's trial. This is just the sort of thing that would interest her."

Bea and Allie exchanged glances, their eyes widening as they realised the suitability of Debbie's suggestion. "You might be onto something there, kiddo," Bea told her in admiration. "Do you have a number for her?"

"Nah, but Kaz'll have it," Debbie replied, clearly pleased to have been helpful. 

"I'll ask her," Allie began as she reached for her phone. Bea laid a restraining hand on her arm.

 _"I'll_ ask her," Bea insisted. "We'll be seeing her tomorrow, right?" Allie nodded. "Then I'll ask her then."

"Okay," Allie concluded faintly. Kaz and Bea in the same room. What would _that_ be like, she wondered.

⁂

It had been a long time since she had last been in a pub, what with the ban on alcohol during her parole and Harry’s tight control of her in the months before she went to Wentworth. Bea took a deep breath and huffed it out surreptitiously. The noise, bright lights and the stink of beer were not helping with her jitters. She was nervous and she knew that, no matter how she attempted to hide it, Allie and Debbie were aware of it. It was obvious in Deb's overly jolly comments and the way that she could feel Allie's eyes checking on her every few seconds. To distract them, she unglued her sweating glass from the cardboard beermat and took a sip. Unfortunately she bungled even that simple manoeuvre, allowing too much juice into her mouth, dribbling it down her chin and half choking as she attempted to swallow it. Eyes watering, she glanced at Allie to see if she had noticed, only to find that she was already offering her a napkin with a wry but not unsympathetic smile. 

Bea returned the smile, feeling lucky to have such an attentive girlfriend. When she had arrived at Allie's earlier, she had enthusiastically complimented her outfit; tight black jeans and a soft shirt unbuttoned low enough to snag Allie's eyes every time she glanced her way. She had completed her look with the narrow necklace that Maxine had sent her home with, draped over her collarbone for luck. Allie had surprised her by abandoning her usual subtle make-up and giving her eyes a dramatically bold outline of dark kohl. Bea adored the cheekily close-fitting polka-dot blouse she had tucked into the high-waisted blue jeans. Jeans that made her legs look even longer than usual. But it was the circular belt buckle that consistently drew her eyes. The light coloured metal was embossed with a Celtic design that was complicated, but the buckle itself looked as though it would be simple to unfasten. It made Bea’s fingers twitch.

Allie and Debbie both suddenly turned their faces towards the entrance, letting Bea know that at least some of the family had arrived. She sat up taller and straightened her shirt. Her ankle tag caught on the top of her boot, reminding her of its presence. Would people be able to see the shape of it under her jeans? Too late to worry about that now. A gaggle of people, self-evidently Novaks, headed their way, and she stood up, wiping her damp hands on her jeans. Allie made a bee-line for one of her brothers, a little darker and less imposingly tall than the others, and gave him a hug. In the background she could see Debbie offering hugs all-round the rest of the group.

“Babe …” Allie began, leading the young man over. “This is Robbie. Robbie, this is Bea.” Bea stuck out her hand and Robbie took it gently in response. 

“Hi,” he said with a series of rapid blinks.

“Nice to meet you,” Bea responded.

 _Crikey, he looks almost as nervous as I am,_ Bea thought. Heartened, Bea gave him a tentative smile. He smiled back and Bea was astonished to see the resemblance to Allie when he did. _Almost the same mouth,_ she thought dazedly. Allie put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him down into the seat next to Bea. “I’ll get you a beer,” she told him. “You talk to Bea.” But before he could even open his mouth the tallest and blondest of the brothers had leaned over the table to introduce himself.

“Hi Bea,” he announced. ”I’m Freddo …”

“Hi …”

She stood up and offered her hand but he simply grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her as much of a hug as he could across the table. “ … the good looking one,” he continued with a wink. _Oh. The joker of the family,_ Bea thought, beginning to absorb the dynamic.

“Not the _only_ good looking one,” she shot back, glancing over to Allie where she stood at the bar.

“Ha!” Freddo said, following her gaze and then giving her a pleased grin. “You’ll do …” he commented. He might have followed this up but Robbie grabbed hold of his arm and pushed him into a seat. “Where’s Claire?” Freddo was asking him as Debbie shuffled along the bench next to her, drawing the last of the brothers with her. He was a lanky youngster with hands that seemed overly large for his frame, and a mass of unruly fair hair that stuck out in tufts. But his eyes were just like Allie’s.

“Mum, this is Joe. Joe … this is my mum,” Debbie said.

“Pleased to meet you, Mrs Smith,” he said politely, holding out his hand. Bea rolled her eyes but shook his hand.

“Call me Bea,” she told him. “Pleased to meet you too, Joe. Debbie’s told me about how kind you’ve been to her …”

“Ah … it’s all good,” he said modestly. “It’s nice not to be the youngest all the time,” he said with a shy glance from under his lashes. Debbie grinned at him and he gave her such a rough one armed squeeze that she stuck her tongue out at him and poked him in the ribs. He noisily mimed puking into her lap. Bea huffed out a laugh at their antics. She blinked muzzily. This was something that Debbie had missed for so long and it touched a tender wound inside her, making tears spring up unexpectedly.

It was at this point that she became aware of a silent presence standing nearby and watching them all. _Allie’s dad,_ she knew from the briefest of glances. He was tall and thin, white-haired but unbowed. With that upright bearing and patrician face Bea would have pegged him as military even if she had not already known his past. Feeling a responsibility to introduce herself, she squeezed past Debbie and Joe and went over to him.

“Mr Novak?” she said, looking up into his face. It was strange to see Allie’s eyes yet again, this time in a face lined with experience and worn by worry and grief. His face visibly softened as he met her eyes.

“Bea,” he replied quietly. He took her hand in both of his. They were warm like Allie’s, though coarser, and she got a sudden whiff of his woody cologne; masculine and understated. “Call me Seb,” he told her. She nodded.

“Seb and Deb, right?” she croaked nervously, remembering something that Debbie had once said. He smiled and his eyes gave a familiar spark at those words.

“I’ve grown quite attached to your daughter,” he replied hesitantly. “I hope you don’t mind?”

Bea shook her head. How could she mind, when she knew how much Debbie valued him? “I could say the same about _your daughter,_ ” she retorted. _“_ Do _you_ mind? _”_ she asked with dizzying boldness. In response he gave an unexpected guffaw.

Smiling, he shook his head. “The last thing Al is looking for is _my_ approval,” he said, wariness returning to his eyes. “But if it helps, you have it, nonetheless. She’s clearly very happy to have you in her life.” Bea swallowed dryly at his honesty. She supposed he must assume that Allie had told her how he had behaved when she was younger. Did he know that she still struggled to forgive him? Probably. And it probably explained his position on the outskirts of this group.

“Come and sit down,” she said, feeling generous towards him all of a sudden. “Allie says you’re the history expert of the team,” she began, taking his arm.

“By default,” he said, allowing himself to be drawn closer to the table. “Being by far the oldest one here …”

“Too true,” Freddo said with a laugh.

“Hi, Dad,” Allie said, returning from the bar with a tray of drinks.

“Hello sweetheart,” Seb replied. The caution in both their eyes was hard to watch. Allie gave him a half-hearted kiss on the cheek. Bea looked away.

“Hi, Towser,” Allie said to Joe, affectionately ruffling his hair. He grimaced and batted her hand away. The unwilling baby of the family. Bea allowed her lungs to finally take a proper deep breath. They were a family. They had history together; rifts and factions that she wasn’t a part of, which she could only hope to one day understand. For the moment she was nothing more than a peripheral cog in the mechanism, with novelty interest maybe, but not essential to how this merry-go-round operated. She found that she could breathe more easily now that the initial scrutiny was over.

Allie dished out the drinks and explained to the table as a whole that they would have to leave before the end to get Bea home before nine. Silence. Bea felt herself colour with the implication of guilt.

“Hey Robbie. Call the police at half eight, will ya? Tell them I stole your wallet and then I can get out of here early too,” Freddo said with a grin. Allie reached over and thumped him on the arm. But everyone else was laughing and Bea felt the tension dissipate into relief.

“You just don’t want the depths of your ignorance revealed,” Joe told Freddo.

“This team wouldn’t get anywhere without my footie knowledge,” Freddo insisted.

“I knew there was _some_ reason we kept on inviting you,” Joe continued.

“Here comes Kaz,” Allie chipped in with a significant look at Bea.

“Shields up. Red alert,” Debbie murmured. Joe laughed. Bea glared at her daughter.

“Not helpful, Deb …” Allie said under her breath. Debbie made an apologetic face and turned to smile at the new arrival. “Kaz!” Allie exclaimed in greeting.

While Kaz was greeted by the group Bea had an opportunity to study her. Bea initially judged her to be an unremarkable fifty-something, until she caught a stray shard from her ice-blue eyes. _Ouch._ Piercing really didn’t cut it. In fact everything about Kaz was either pointed or a sharp edge, Bea found, as though the woman had spent her whole life honing herself into a collection of flint blades, ready to strike sparks from everyone around her. Once she had dealt a few stinging words around the others her gaze turned to Bea and pinned her with a speculative look.

“Uh … Kaz, this is Bea. Bea … Kaz,” Allie said. Bea usually hated to make eye-contact for longer than absolutely necessary, but in this case she made sure to hold Kaz’s gaze for as long as she could, feeling that to look away would be to show weakness. After a long beat she saw Kaz’s face crease into a smirk, signalling the end of the contest.

“Bea.”

“Kaz,” Bea replied with a nod.

“Get me a soda water would ya, bubba?” Kaz asked, turning to Allie. Allie glanced at Bea, clearly wondering if it was safe to leave the two of them together. Bea gave her a minute nod and she hurried over to the bar. The quiz was about to start.

Kaz took Allie’s seat and dragged the answer sheet over, writing something at the top. Reading upside down, Bea could see that in the space for the team name she had put “Red Right Hand”. She looked up at Bea as though daring her to ask the question. Bea pretended a total lack of interest.

“Kaz is our scribe,” Robbie told Bea.

“Oh yeah?”

“And Joe is science,” Kaz continued, pointing the pencil at him. “Seb is history, Freddo sport, Robbie music, Allie literature, Debbie anything from the last couple of years, Claire politics … Hey! Where _is_ Claire?” she asked Robbie.

Robbie looked uneasy. “She’s uh, got a lot on this week …”

Kaz snorted. “Trouble in paradise?” she asked. “No surprise there,” she said derisively. _Sharp tongue too._ Robbie looked away.

“What about you Kaz?” Bea asked, already feeling protective of gentle Robbie.

“Huh?” Kaz asked, taking her drink from Allie who had just arrived back at the table.

“What’s _your_ specialist subject?” she asked pointedly. Allie was looking alarmed and Bea was amused to imagine what kind of intervention she was hastily thinking up in case things went south.

“Oh, you know. This and that. How about you, _Bea?_ ” As nice as pie. Laced with razor blades.

Bea folded her arms across her chest. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we.” After the likes of Jacs Holt, Bea thought, Kaz Proctor was going to be a piece of cake.

⁂

Half way through the quiz and Kaz was still skewering Bea with a penetrating look every time an answer was required. Even though she knew why Kaz was doing this, it was still making Allie uncomfortable and she could see Robbie squirming too. But the rest of the family were either oblivious or ignoring the tension as they discussed possible answers.

“Nineteen forty-two,” her dad said, sounding certain.

“I don’t know,” Kaz hedged, not writing the answer down. “Wasn’t it more recently than that? What do you think Bea?” she asked, pinning Bea with a pointed stare.

“I think … Seb knows more about military history than either of us. Put nineteen forty-two.” Allie admired Bea across the table. _So cool._ She wasn’t flustered at all. Allie wondered how she was doing it. She was more used to seeing Bea blushing and tentative. Around her, at least. It was only recently that she had seen her definite and commanding, as now, and that had so far mostly been reserved for the privacy of the bedroom. Blushing Bea was sexy, but so too was this Bea, bossy and confident. She allowed her eyes to linger on Bea’s neckline. There was something about the way that necklace lay that made her long to trace her tongue along her collarbone. She glanced up to find Bea staring at her with amusement. _Caught_. She smiled, uncaring. Kaz cleared her throat, making it known that she had noticed what was going on. Bea smirked. Allie ogled her some more while Bea basked in her attention; _preened_ almost, and ignored Kaz's disapproving stare.

“The music round,” Kaz announced. “This is your opportunity to shine, Robbie.” Robbie shifted in his seat. He had had a success with the music round once, many weeks ago, and Kaz persisted in needling him to answer every time now, despite his lack of success ever since. Allie sighed, almost inaudibly, and prepared to step in if necessary.

“Which pop duo had a number one hit with _To the Moon and Back_?”

Robbie looked unhappy under Kaz’s scrutiny, but Allie was forced to shrug, along with the rest of the team, having no idea.

Bea leaned forward. “I reckon it might have been Savage Garden,” she said quietly.

Robbie shrugged worriedly. “I dunno.”

Bea smiled. “God, it was years ago. You’d have been just a kid,” she said kindly. She looked at Kaz until she wrote it down.

After that the questions were answered pretty quickly, mostly by Bea after a little discussion with either Robbie or Debbie.

“Chemical Brothers.”

“Neon Trees.”

“Two thousand and eight.”

"Fleetwood Mac."

“Taylor Swift.”

“Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons, _Beggin_.”

"The Spencer Davis Group and Olivia Newton John."

"INXS …" Bea began. Then she seemed to pause until she was sure that Allie was looking at her. " _Beautiful_ _Girl_ ," she said when they had eye contact, making Allie blush with the unexpectedness of it. Kaz looked at Bea questioningly. "That's the title of the song," she explained with an arch of her brow. Allie laughed. 

Kaz was beginning to look discomfited, as though she was losing her edge. She looked to Bea for the answer to each question but her stabbing glares lacked their typical venom.

"Freddie," Bea finally said, with a shrug and a smile. 

"Freddie?" Kaz asked, pencil poised. Bea looked at Robbie. 

"Mercury, of course," he supplied, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. Bea raised one hand and they high-fived happily. Kaz sat back in her chair. The rueful smile said it all. She had been bested. But she didn't seem upset. In fact she now appraised Bea with a respectful eye.

Allie decided that they should quit while they were ahead. "We'd better get going, babe," she said to Bea, leaning across the table and touching her hand proprietorially. "Text me how we score?" she asked Kaz as she stood up. 

"Sure. Should do pretty well I reckon." She stood up herself. "Pleasure to meet you, Bea," she said. "Welcome to the team."

"Thanks," Bea replied, gracious now. "Before I go, could I ask you for a favour?" Kaz nodded, interest piqued. Allie knew she would be happy to give Bea the journalist’s number, and any other help she could, when she heard Doreen’s story. Despite her prickliness she loved nothing more than to help people who were down on their luck.

⁂

Once they had said their goodbyes and left the pub, Kaz promising to drop Debbie home after the quiz, Allie took Bea’s hand as they headed for the car.

“That was pretty hot in there, Bea,” Allie told her. Bea glanced at her, noticing her pink cheeks.

“What was?”

“The way you took Kaz down a peg or two.”

“With my encyclopaedic musical knowledge, you mean?” Bea asked sardonically. “Not much of a superpower.”

“Oh, I dunno. It was pretty super to me. Plus, it was as much your top dog attitude as anything,” Allie said admiringly.

Pissing contests like that were a daily occurrence in prison, and Bea reckoned she had picked up the habit of winning them whilst inside. They ought to be beneath her now, but somehow Kaz had brought that competitiveness out in her. Now, she stopped dead in the car park, allowing Allie to be tugged to a halt by their joined hands. And then she reeled her in slowly, appreciating her feature by feature as if she was seeing her clearly for the first time today: her hair, her eyes, her incredible curving lips; the rounded bust, the neat waist, the long, long legs. Once she was in her arms, she kissed her lovingly.

“Did I mention how sexy you look tonight?” Bea asked, nose to nose, eye to eye. Allie smiled. “I don’t suppose there’s time to … you know ..?” she asked hopefully.

Allie laughed. “Not really. Besides … you’re dog tired,” she said, tucking a stray curl behind Bea’s ear.

“I’m not,” Bea protested.

“You’ve been to work, done a run, done _me,_ ” she winked, “and made dinner. Then there was all the stress of meeting the family. Which you _aced,_ by the way …”

“Yeah? You think they liked me okay?”

“More than okay. You charmed them.”

“Well, I liked them. And it wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be,” Bea admitted, tightening her hold on Allie and closing her eyes.

“We could maybe make out in the car for a few minutes ..?” Allie suggested.

“Um, hm,” Bea replied, stifling a yawn.

Allie looked into her face. “You’re asleep on your feet,” she said accusingly.

“No, I’m good. I wanna …” Bea tugged on her belt buckle meaningfully.

“Bed for you,” Allie announced, leading her over to the car. “You can get into my pants some other time.”

“Gah!” Bea said in frustration. “I can’t wait until I can share your bed every night.”

“I know babe. Me too. Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you thought about which bits worked and which bits didn't. Hitch ❤
> 
> (Oh, and a prize goes to Lauren for guessing it was Kim 🏆😁)


	43. “Touché”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the scales are judiciously adjusted until some semblance of balance is secured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone. I hope you're all well and safe and managing to stay sane in these strange times. Don't forget to reach out to others if you're feeling the strain. Here's the next chapter ...

> **Got some good news.**
> 
> _Yeah? Tell me._
> 
> **On my way over now.**
> 
> _You got a new job?_
> 
> **No, that’s not it.**
> 
> _Your parole has been signed off?_
> 
> **No. Fraid not.**
> 
> _You’re not wearing any undies?_
> 
> **Allie! Be patient. I’ll be there in half an hour.**
> 
> _Fine. But it had better be the undies thing._
> 
> ❤❤❤

⁂

Franky slouched in her seat and turned her empty mug pensively with one hand. More than anything she wished she could go over all of this with Gidge. But ironically, Gidge was the one person who mustn’t find out about it. She knew her well enough by now to know what her sense of duty would command her to do. And Franky was still hoping that there would be another way out.

“Penny for ‘em, love,” Liz said, still cradling her half full mug between her hands.

Franky sighed and glanced at her. “Got nothing worth that much, Liz.”

Liz gave a sad smile. “C’mon Franky. You’ve been down in the dumps for a coupla weeks. Maybe I can help.” She reached out one hand and placed it over Franky’s, giving it an encouraging waggle.

Franky sighed. She hadn’t yet told anyone what Kim had said in the equipment room. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her crew, but secrets in this place had a habit of not staying secret for long. And this was a big one. Kim could be condemned to a life sentence very easily. And Franky wasn’t _exactly_ sure that that was what she wanted. She hunched forward over her elbows and turned towards Liz’s expectant face.

“What would you do Liz? If you had to choose between lagging on someone and saving yourself from a lotta extra time?”

Liz blinked. “I think it would depend on who the someone was,” she replied. Franky nodded. “And how much time we’re talking.”

“About twenty big ones,” Franky said with a humourless smile.

 _“Bloody hell,”_ Liz breathed. “This is about Jacs, isn’t it?” Franky didn’t reply, only tongued the inside of her mouth as a surrogate to speaking. Liz nodded slowly, eyebrows raised. “Don’t answer that. Well, unless it’s me or Boomer or Maxine …” she began with a quirk of her lips, “I say you should do it. If you can find a way to do it without getting yourself into hot water.” Franky looked at her from under her brows. She must have looked doubtful because Liz continued. “You’re a young woman, love,” she said in explanation. “You don’t deserve to be stuck in here for another twenty years for a murder you didn’t even do.”

Franky nodded as though she agreed with this, but her stomach clenched with the knowledge that she _did_ deserve to do twenty for murder. Or at least manslaughter. Killing Mrs Jackson had been an accident and, although Mr Jackson had now made his peace with her, Franky could not ignore the fact that someone was dead and it was her fault. Allowing the police to lay the murder of Jacs Holt at her feet would be one way to assuage that guilt. And add to that that she could stop Kim from doing time for at least _trying_ to save her life … Well, she could see how that weighed in the scales of justice. But on the other side of the balance were Gidge and this feeling they had for each other and their possible future together. If she could find a way to avoid this rap she could be out on parole pretty soon and living a life that had seemed a fantasy not so long ago.

“It would mean dropping someone in it,” Franky said heavily. “And while they _did_ do it … they were trying to help me.” Franky knew that this was exactly enough for Liz to work out the whole story, but _technically_ she still hadn’t told anyone of Kim’s guilt. Liz was nodding knowingly.

“So. Either you take the rap, or your unnamed friend takes the rap. But you don’t really want that either,” she summarised.

Franky nodded. “Yep. Pretty shit, hey?”

Liz arched her brows and fixed her eyes on the table. “But you know, there are lots of nasty, _nasty_ people in this place,” she said in a confidential tone. “People who neither of us would mind seeing get some much deserved punishment for the things they’ve done. Even if that means getting them to be punished for something that they _haven’t_ done instead …” Liz’s eyes flicked up to meet Franky’s for a moment before lowering again. The statement was left hanging in the air for a moment while Franky caught up.

“You _wily old_ …” she began in admiration.

“Hey! Less of the old, if you don’t mind,” Liz objected before taking a sip of tea.

“You beauty!” Franky exclaimed, grasping Liz’s face between her hands and delivering a smacking kiss to her forehead. Her thoughts were already leaping ahead to how it could be done. And one name resonated within her mind. _Mercado_.

⁂

"Oh. My. _God!"_ Allie felt her voice get shriller with each word. Bea laughed and protested gently though Allie was sure that she was just as excited, despite the fact that it was she who had joined their hands and was springing up and down on the spot while Bea remained earthbound. "This calls for a celebration," Allie declared as she switched on the radio and dialled up the volume. "Kitchen disco …" she announced, recognising the song playing as _Raspberry Beret._ Yes! What luck. "This is the best song _ever_ ," she said joyfully, swinging their clasped hands and beginning to move with the music. 

Bea laughed. "You say that about _every song._ "

"Dance with me," Allie said, grabbing her around the waist and attempting a twirl. Unluckily the kitchen table intervened and Allie bumped it with her thigh, causing her water glass to teeter dangerously from side to side. Bea pulled an agonised face but managed to reach out and right it before it fell.

" _Allie_ …"

She could feel Bea's reluctance to join in from the immobility of her stance, but she persevered, swinging her hips, working her shoulders and giving Bea a pleading look until she rolled her eyes and made some forced-looking foot moves. Allie grinned and shook her head at how funny she looked, dancing so grudgingly. Feeling that Bea needed some encouragement, she really cut loose, shaking her head so that her hair swung around her face and adding some bounce to her dance steps until Bea laughed and began to join in.

"What's going on?" Debbie asked, having been summoned by the loud music. 

"Debbie!" Allie grabbed her hand and pulled her into the fray. This was something that they had often done since Debbie had come to live with her, dancing in the kitchen while they cooked or cleaned up after dinner, so the girl wasn't at all fazed and joined in enthusiastically. Seeing Debbie's participation seemed to loosen something in Bea, as though it gave her permission to move with less inhibition. Allie watched appreciatively as she found her groove and became less self-conscious, even singing along and twirling first Debbie and then Allie by the hand. She could move, Allie noted, when she wanted to, although, now she thought about it, she should have known that already, having experienced some of Bea’s moves before in a more private context.

When the song finished, the three of them came to a stop in the middle of the kitchen floor, arms around each other, a little breathless still from their dancing. 

"What was that in aid of?" Debbie asked smilingly, looking from one to the other of them. Although Allie was bursting to tell her, she stopped herself and waited expectantly for Bea to explain. Bea smiled and hung her head shyly, shaking it a little from side to side.

"Mum?" Debbie prompted her. 

"Because I've been a good girl and kept all my parole conditions," she growled self-deprecatingly, "I've been granted a two day pass over Christmas."

"What? Does that mean ..?"

Bea nodded and held Debbie's chin between the fingers and thumb of one hand. "Yep. I'll be here to see your happy little face when you realise that Santa has come after all," she replied in an exaggeration of the kind of voice that one might use with a small child. Debbie gave an abbreviated squeal and jumped into her mother's arms. Bea laughed and staggered a little in surprise. 

“Then … we can do all the things ..?” Debbie asked excitedly.

“Pfft … don’t you think you’re a little old for that stuff?” Bea asked. Debbie’s face was transformed by an expression of mock horror.

_“Mum!”_

“Okay … fine …” Bea granted.

“What is _all the things?_ ” Allie finally managed to ask.

“Oh … we have certain traditions …”

“The mouse house,” Debbie breathed reverentially.

“Such as Debbie’s mouse house for advent, and …”

“Ice cream sundaes on Christmas Eve,” Debbie said with a tiny spring on her toes. Allie grinned to see her childlike excitement, and nodded. That sounded like a tradition she could get behind. “Snowflake stockings,” Debbie continued. “Chocolate pancakes for breakfast …” Allie glanced at Bea who was looking at her daughter indulgently.

“All those things,” she confirmed. “If Allie doesn’t mind, that is … You must have a few traditions of your own, sweetheart ..?” she asked tentatively.

“Mmm. One or two. But nothing that won’t fit around yours …”

“And your family. Do you usually go to your dad’s?”

“The last couple of years we’ve been at Robbie and Claire’s for lunch. Not sure if that’s happening this year …” Allie answered. Robbie hadn’t mentioned it so far, and Allie was beginning to think there was some difficulty between them, having not seen Claire for quite some time. “Anyway … I think it would be wholly appropriate if it was just the three of us, here at home this year.” She smiled at Bea but could see her mind working. This conversation might well have a sequel, Allie thought, as Bea wouldn’t want to think that she was neglecting her family in favour of them. But Bea and Debbie were her immediate family now and Allie was more than happy for them to take precedence.

“Allie …” Debbie began in a wheedling tone.

“Yes, Debbie?” Allie asked, wondering what other Christmassy requirements she could possibly have.

“Could I borrow some of that good concealer you have?”

“Of course! What’s up?”

“See this pimple … right here?” Debbie pointed to the area just between her eyebrows. “It’s huge. I feel like I’m turning into a rhinoceros …” she said in dismay.

“Debbie … it’s _tiny_ … Hold on …” Allie finally noticed the fresh jeans and the new top she was wearing. “Debbie? Do you have … _a date?_ ” She heard Bea suck in a breath. Debbie’s eyes went large. “With an actual _boy?_ ” Allie clarified. _Crikey, she was blushing._

“What boy?” Bea asked with a frown as she folded her arms across her chest.

Debbie made a sound of despair. “See, Allie? This was what I was hoping to avoid … But you had to go and say something …”

“I’m sure you’d much rather avoid your mother’s scrutiny …”

“Hey! I’m right here,” Bea objected.

“But after what happened with Brayden,” Allie continued, ignoring Bea’s interjection, “I think we’re gunna need full disclosure on the boyfriend front for a while.”

Bea gave a firm nod. “What she said,'' she agreed, taking Allie’s hand. Debbie gave a dramatic and protesting sigh.

“If you must know … his name’s Omeo …”

“How old and how did you meet him?” Bea came back, machine-gun fast.

“He’s eighteen and I met him through Yindi,” Debbie replied with an eye roll that made Allie suppress a smile.

“Through Yindi?” Bea asked suspiciously.

Debbie sighed again. “He’s Yindi’s younger brother. Happy now?”

There was a short pause. “Extremely,” Bea replied with a smile that lit up her whole face.

“Allie?” Debbie checked.

Allie nodded. “Of course. If he’s Yindi’s brother, I’m sure he’s wonderful. Come on. Let’s sort that pimple out.”

“Have a lovely time,” Bea added as they were leaving the room. “Call us if you need picking up. Do you need money?” she asked, fumbling in her pocket.

“No. I’m good Mum.”

“Okay … Will you ask him to dinner next week? So we can meet him?” they heard Bea add as they were heading up the stairs.

“We’ll see …” Debbie called back over her shoulder as she caught Allie’s eye with a grimace.

⁂

“Hello?”

“Is that Bea Smith?”

“Speaking.”

“Hi Bea, it’s Michael Storey here.”

“Oh, hi Michael …” Eager though Bea was to hear what Michael had found out, she still felt a tide of nausea rise in her stomach. What if she had found out something really bad? Or worse, what if she had found nothing out at all? Nervously, she closed her door and sat down on her bed.

“I’ve managed to cultivate a source at Wentworth,” the journalist continued. “It seems that your friend Doreen isn’t the only prisoner unaccounted for. There’s another woman, uh …” There was a pause, presumably while she consulted her notes, “Lexie Patterson … Do you know her?”

“No,” Bea replied.

“Well she was sentenced to six months for larceny, probably after your time, but the weird thing is … reportedly, she was pregnant too. And again, her friends were told that she’d been transferred to Barnhurst for maternity care.”

“I’m guessing that’s not true,” Bea growled, getting to her feet and beginning to pace.

"Exactly," Michael replied. "Plus … that both of these women are pregnant is worrying me. What's the scheme here? Were they both impregnated by a guard? And then someone panicked?" Michael asked, her tone betraying her puzzlement. 

"I don't think so. Doreen swore that the father of her baby was Nash, one of the prisoners from the garden project. She’s crazy about him."

"I'll try to find out if anyone knows the paternity of Lexie's baby, but maybe I'm on the wrong track. Could the pregnancies be a coincidence? Do these two women have something else in common?"

Bea shrugged. "I dunno …"

"Okay. Well, I'll keep you informed Bea."

“Thanks Michael.” Bea ended the call. Could Doreen have deceived them about the baby? She didn’t think so. Whenever Doreen had spoken about Nash it had been only too evident that she was head-over-heels for him. What about Nash’s family on the outside? Could _they_ be after the baby? But that didn’t make sense in light of the news about this Lexie Patterson. Could Doreen and Lexie have known each other on the outside? Bea couldn’t answer that one. She would just have to wait for Michael to come back to her with more information.

⁂

“So, how was your date yesterday Deb?” Bea asked the minute that Debbie came through the door after school.

“Very pleasant, thank you Mother,” Debbie replied in that way she had that was meant to deflect the question. Allie suppressed a grin, doubting that Bea would be so easily put off. Debbie dumped her school bag, toed out of her shoes and headed for the kitchen. Bea padded after her like a dog following an intriguing scent.

“What did you do?” Debbie’s head was, by this time, deep inside the fridge and she didn’t answer. Bea waited, impatience written in every line of her body, until Debbie emerged from the fridge with a cold drink in her hand. “What did you do?” she repeated, and Allie could detect that she was attempting to keep her tone in the neutral range. Debbie, however, was taking it as an interrogation and merely shrugged mutinously. Bea’s brows began to pull together.

“Why don’t you tell us about it over dinner,” Allie suggested, to rescue the situation. “Your mum’s making us … Mmm, smells good, babe. What are we having?”

“Roasted fennel with …” Bea began. Debbie took the opportunity to slip away upstairs. “Why’d you do that?” Bea asked in an annoyed tone. “I need to know that this guy’s treating her right …”

“I know you do,” Allie told her as she took her by the upper arms and pulled their bodies together. “And _I_ need to know that too,” she corrected her gently. Some of the tension left Bea’s face. “But we’ve gotta come at it a different way. I know she looks like a kid when she comes home in that uniform, but she’s gunna be eighteen in a few months and she needs to feel like we respect her autonomy.” Bea laid her forehead on Allie’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around her. Allie smiled as she tightened her own grip.

“So what do you suggest?” Bea mumbled.

“We give her a heads up that we want to hear about it and that allows her time to get used to the idea and decide what she wants to tell us …”

“But doesn’t that just give her time to edit out the stuff she doesn’t want us to know?”

“Yes. But, you know what? We have to trust her and also allow her some privacy. If she knows we’re interested and that she can talk to us, she’s much less likely to keep secrets.”

“I just don’t want a repeat of the Brayden thing,” Bea confessed.

“I know. That was horrible. And scary,” Allie recalled with a mental shudder. “But she learnt a lesson from that. She _knows_ to come to us. And we have to _let_ her come to us …”

“It’s hard,” Bea said, muffled, into her shoulder.

“Yeah … but if we build the trust now, we won’t have to worry so much if she goes off to uni next year.”

“True … How’d you work all this out? From your foster kids?” Bea asked as she lifted her head to look Allie in the eyes.

“Yeah, some. But mostly from trying to keep my brothers on the straight and narrow,” she said with a smile. Bea laughed.

“Were they a lot of trouble?”

“Mm. Robbie was a good boy, as you might expect. But Freddo was a nightmare. I made all my mistakes with him … If you need an explanation for why he turned out the way he did, look no further than yours truly.” Allie was only half joking. If she had known then what she knew now, Freddo might have gone a completely different route in life.

“He seems to have turned out fine to me,” Bea replied loyally. “Happy. Full of fun … And anyway, you can’t blame yourself. Raising those boys was your dad’s responsibility, not yours.”

“True. And I didn’t make the same mistakes with Joe, you can be sure.”

“Why do you call him Towser?” Bea asked, suddenly.

“Oh, well, Joe was only five when Mum died, so he hardly remembers her. I’m all the mother he’s ever known. He used to follow me everywhere, literally dogging my heels, so we gave him that doggy nickname.”

“Does he hate it?”

“Yeah …” Allie laughed. “I probably ought to give it up, huh?”

Bea nodded. “He’s not a kid anymore,” she quoted, with a knowing look.

Allie laughed. "Touché."

⁂

When I came down for dinner, both Mum and Allie were quiet on the subject of my date with Omeo. Mum was telling Allie about some of the awkward customers at the coffee shop and the way that Florence dealt with them. It was pretty funny, I admit. She sounds like a tough lady and I suppose we’ll be hearing more about all that now that she has offered to keep Mum on for a few more weeks. I have to say that I couldn’t really see her working in a coffee shop, but she’s obviously thriving on it.

Then Allie went off on one about Robbie and how she just _knew_ that he and Mum would hit it off. And Mum admitted that she really liked him, though she’s not had much of a chance to get to know Freddo or Joe yet. Then Allie started fretting about Robbie and the state of his marriage and I started to get a bit impatient. _Didn’t they want to know about my date?_ Eventually Allie ran out of steam and there was an inviting silence.

“So, do you want to hear about my date or not?” I asked, as Mum industriously wiped her plate with a scrap of bread. I sounded a little petulant and had a nasty feeling that I had been manoeuvred into my childlike outburst.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Mum said reasonably. “I hope you had a good time ..?”

“Yes … Omeo took me to ACMI and then we went for a pizza afterwards.” I watched with satisfaction as Mum’s eyebrows shot up. It’s true that a museum is not an obvious first date, but I guess he must have noticed how I’m always talking about movies. Allie’s reaction was less blatant, but I could see her lips curve in a pleased smile.

“That was a … thoughtfully planned date,” Mum conceded after she had mastered her surprise.

I nodded. “He’s a thoughtful guy,” I said smugly.

“How did you get home?” she asked next. I was expecting this one.

“Omeo got me an Uber. And had me text him when I got home.” Mum grinned at this, as I had known she would. She sat back in her seat and glanced at Allie. I silently prayed that Allie wouldn’t mention how late I got in. I caught a conspiratorial look passing between the two of them. They seemed satisfied and I finally understood what it’s like to have two active parents. Mum could be a pain in the arse but Allie would temper her more protective instincts. And Allie would be more likely to treat me like an adult, but sometimes … it was nice to have Mum baby me a bit. This little bit of balance is something I could grow to like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave Allie a Prince song to dance to because I remember that he's a favourite of Kate Jenkinson's.
> 
> Anyhoo, I hope you liked that chapter. More next week. Hitch ❤


	44. “Human Interest Story”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which hope springs eternal in the human breast.

“Bea? It’s Michael …”

“G’day Michael …”

“Things are hotting up. Something’s happening down here at the marina … Can you get here? I think it’s gunna be tonight …”

“No … I … My parole … _What’s going on?_ ”

“I think they’re gunna move them tonight. I’ve got the cops on standby, but I thought you might like to be here. If we can pull this off, your mate will be glad of a friendly face.”

“Where exactly are you?”

“The Anchorage Marina in Williamstown. I’m parked up by the nature reserve.”

“Leave it with me. I’ll see what I can do.”

⁂

Mum was very pale. I could tell she really didn’t want to do this.

“Why don’t you wait in the car, Mum? I’ll find the Christmas stuff and we can leave the rest for another day …”

“Nah,” she replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “We might as well get it over with.” Yep, there she was, my stubborn mother. She gave herself what I suspected was a silent talking-to, followed by a determined nod. Then she was out of the car and grabbing the bags and boxes from the boot so quickly that I had to scramble to keep up.

“So … what’s the plan?” I asked, as we headed into the storage complex.

Mum waved a roll of plastic rubbish bags at me. “Green bags for stuff we want to donate. Black to chuck away. Anything we want to keep goes in the white bags or into a box if it’s breakable.” I nodded, resisting the urge to give an ironic salute. If the military precision helped, then who was I to comment?

Once we reached the unit and I unlocked the door, I immediately got in there with the green and black bags and started filling them. This was partly so that I could deal with Dad’s clothes and bits and bobs. I didn’t want Mum to have to handle any of that stuff. But it was also for my own benefit. I couldn’t bear to see her face as she looked at the remains of our old life. Any one of these shoes or plates or knick-knacks could spark some terrible memory for her. Perhaps these were the shoes that Dad was wearing when he kicked her down the stairs; maybe those were the plates that she had washed despite her broken fingers; did that framed print remind her of how she had had to brace herself every night to enter their bedroom? I couldn’t know, but I wanted to spare her from as much as I could, so I worked as quickly as I could and kept my eyes to myself.

After a couple of minutes I heard her rustling behind me as she began to look through her clothes. We worked in silence for a while until I heard a soft exclamation.

“Look at these, Deb,” she said, holding up a tiny pair of yellow socks. Her eyes were suspiciously damp, but she was smiling. “I remember when your feet were small enough to fit into these,” she said. I smiled over at her. Nostalgia I could handle.

“I can’t believe you kept them all these years Mum,” I told her.

“And these picture books. Look …” She held them up one at a time and I could instantly recognise each of the colourful covers from some part of my memory that was usually closed to me. They briefly carried me back to a time of milk and biscuits and afternoon naps.

 _"Pumpkin Soup,”_ I said. That one I remembered most clearly; the illustration of the animals drinking soup against the bright orange background was seared into my childhood brain. I noticed Mum put the books carefully into a box.

“You’re not keeping those are you?” I asked.

“Don’t you want a bedtime story tonight?” she asked with faux surprise. I laughed and then she continued. “Got to hang onto something for when my grandchildren arrive.” My laugh became a cough and then a gagging noise, much to Mum’s amusement. “You say that now … but once you start popping out those babies, you’ll be glad I saved them. You’ll want to be able to say ‘Granny used to read this to me when I was little.’” The thought made her smile, so I didn’t point out that children, if I was ever to have any, were a long way off.

We kept it up the whole afternoon. Mum made three trips to dump the rubbish while I carried on. When she got back we loaded the donations and the keepsies into the car until the storage unit was as bare as the inside of an eggshell. Then we dropped the donations off at a charity shop and headed home. Mum had been pretty lively up until this point, but she got progressively quieter as we went along. I could see her glancing in the rear-view mirror at the bags piled on the backseat, and I wondered what she was thinking.

“Not much to show for a whole life, huh Deb?” she said once she had parked outside Allie’s and we were sitting listening to the cooling tick of the engine. I reached over and gave her hand a squeeze.

“It’s a new start Mum,” I said. “You’ve had to let a lot of things go …”

“But I hung on to the most important thing,” she said, lifting my hand to her lips and giving it a quick kiss. But her face was still tense; her eyebrows drawn up high as though muscle tension was the only thing keeping her together.

As she went to start unloading the car I said, “I’ve got this Mum. You go.” She looked puzzled, so I led her over to the front door and into the house. Allie was just coming down the stairs to greet us. I put Mum’s hand into hers and saw her face fall into sympathetic lines at Mum’s expression.

“Oh, _Bea,_ ” she said. Mum’s face started to crumple and I turned my back hastily, heading back out to unload the car. Mum hated to cry in front of me. And, to be fair, I wasn’t keen on seeing it. But Allie would know how to comfort her. When I came back inside there was no sign of them.

⁂

Bea's breath had evened out. Her head now rested alongside Allie's shoulder, but all of her attention seemed to be on the cat lying on her abdomen. Her fingers moved pensively against the white fur of Nova's chest. The cat's eyes were closed; her previously violent purr now reduced to a low vibration that Allie knew would peter out when she fell asleep. Allie's movements echoed Bea's own as she stroked her fingers lightly against the curls that had fallen across her chest and now partially obscured the large wet patch on her shirt. It was hypnotically calming, somehow, this mindless, repetitive motion. 

She had never known anyone cry quite like that. At first it was as if Bea was being torn apart by it. She was wracked by painful sounding sobs that left her eyes dry and desperate. Allie just wanted to hold her and comfort her, and, once the restless pacing and hair tugging had passed, that was exactly what she did. Bea allowed it, but Allie could sense the battle within her. It seemed as though she yearned for the comfort of Allie's arms but, at the same time, feared losing her hard won control. 

"Let me help you," Allie finally whispered. "Let me take some of it from you."

Allie didn't know exactly what it was, but something within those few words turned out to be the thing that softened Bea's tense muscles and persuaded her tear ducts to open. And open they did. Allie hardly knew what to do apart from hold their bodies together as strongly as she could. And although she knew by now most of what Bea had been through in her life, Harry’s abuse and control, a miscarriage and the deaths of her parents, and had seen glimpses of the shame and guilt she carried, still it was a shock to experience this violent outpouring of emotion. As much as she knew that Bea must still have all these feelings within her, she had become so used to her stoicism that she almost considered it a part of her personality. If Bea crumbled now, what would she do? She would be the support that Bea needed her to be, that’s all she could do. Feeling the convulsions passing through Bea’s chest she swore that, not only would she do everything she could to help her, she would find her whatever other help she needed, wherever it could be found, whatever it might cost.

After a couple of minutes Allie had been able to cajole her onto the bed with her. Bea buried her head in Allie’s chest and continued to cry, with gradually lessening force, until Nova gave one of her floating leaps up onto the bed. The cat sniffed at the familiar red curls and then turned her purr up to full force right into Bea’s ear. Bea squirmed and laughed through her tears at the tickling sensation and rolled over onto her back, at which point Nova took up residence on her chest, providing her with the reassuring warmth and consoling purr that she seemed to recognise as being comforting. Allie was no longer surprised by this behaviour, having seen Nova’s impulse to comfort people on many previous occasions. Bea’s tears dried up and her fingers began their mindless combing of Nova’s fur.

“Sorry about that,” Bea eventually rasped.

“Don’t be …”

Bea twisted her head to look at Allie and gave her a wry smile. “Not very attractive though, is it? Self-pity and snot?”

“Well, if anyone can carry it off, it’s you babe,” Allie told her smoothly, to make her smile. Quickly, she craned her neck and kissed Bea full on the mouth, uncaring of whatever bodily leakage there might have been. Bea was salty and hot, dry mouthed and lightly trembling, but Allie deepened the kiss until she felt her draw in a gasp through her nose. She eased back and said seriously, “You could never be unattractive.” Bea looked unconvinced. “And … I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t self-pity.”

“It was,” Bea said, looking away. “I couldn’t stop thinking that all my life had amounted to so far was a few bags and boxes. That’s all I have to bring with me when I move in, if … if you still want me to …”

“It’ll be such a hardship to have you here in this bed every night. I’ve only spent months _dreaming_ of it,” Allie told her with an eye roll. “But, for the record, I don’t need you to bring anything with you when you move in.” She waited until Bea looked at her. “I just want to be with you.”

“That’s sweet, but …” Bea took Allie’s hand with her free one and began stroking her fingers. “I used to have a savings account with thousands of dollars in it. A house, furniture, a car, until Harry pissed it all away. I just really wish I could’ve brought all that to you. Instead .. I’m just this _damaged_ woman with nothing. I’m only in your life because of a fluke. Because you answered the phone when Deb needed someone. And here I am, asking you to love me …”

“And here _I_ am saying ‘Yes! I _will_ love you. I _do_ love you!'” Allie saw the tears begin to well up again. “Babe,” she said quickly. “Nothing could make me value you any higher. You could have turned up at my front door, naked and empty-handed on any random day and things would have turned out exactly the same …”

Bea laughed. “Naked, huh?”

Allie shrugged. “A girl has her fantasies …” Bea laughed again and Allie kissed her beautiful mouth until the laughter was replaced with urgent breath and roaming hands. Nova got to her feet and jumped off the bed with a chirp of disapproval, disappearing from sight. Allie eased into the spot she had vacated and Bea gathered her in gladly.

⁂

"Dr Westfall. Sorry to bother you after hours …"

"It's fine, Bea. I'm really sorry I've had to cancel so many of our sessions. What do you need ..?"

“Actually …”

⁂

Bea hated to rely on other people like this, but there was no way that she could jeopardise her parole over this. Not even for Doreen. She just couldn't do it to Debbie or Allie. So she waited in Judy's office, perched on the edge of the desk, legs braced diagonally to the floor, with her fingers tucked into her hip pockets. Judy was sitting in a chair, turning a pen around between her fingers. They had exhausted all their casual conversation and were now just waiting tensely for the final member of the team to arrive. When they heard the rapid fire of clipped footsteps coming along the corridor they both came to their feet to greet Dr Westfall.

She looked tired, Bea thought, but she gave them a cheery smile nonetheless.

“Thanks for doing this,” Bea said.

“No worries. If your journalist is right and there are Wentworth women caught up in this … whatever _it_ is … then I _want_ to be there.”

“I’ve given Judy Michael’s number. She’s waiting for you, parked right on the edge of the car park where the police have allowed her to observe from. I hope you’ll get the chance to see Dor and let her know that we’ve been looking for her. And that we’re gunna look after her now.” Dr Westfall nodded, but Bea sensed that she thought she was getting ahead of herself. _If_ the smugglers showed up. _If_ Dor was there. _If_ Dor was still alive. But Bea refused to think like that.

“I’ll do whatever I can,” Dr Westfall said simply and reassuringly.

“C’mon,” Judy said. “We’ll take my van. It’ll be less conspicuous than your nice car.”

“Thanks Jude,” Bea told her.

“No worries. Walt’ll take my place until I get back. If there’s any trouble, give him a shout.”

⁂

“I know why _I’m_ here … but what about you guys?” Michael Storey said by way of greeting. Bridget looked her up and down. Tiny and wiry with a sardonic twist to the set of her mouth, the journalist folded her arms across her chest in appraisal of the newcomers.

“Why _are_ you here?” Bridget asked curiously.

“Human interest story, ain’t it,” she replied. Bridget nodded knowingly, recognising a deflection when she saw one. Besides, Bea had already told her about Michael’s crusading journalism in defence of the abused, the homeless and the disenfranchised.

 _"We’re_ here because Bea Smith _asked_ us to be here,” Judy said defensively.

Michael nodded. “Fair enough,” she conceded. “She _is_ mightily persuasive. Shall we?” she asked, gesturing at Judy’s van.

Huddled together in the cab of Judy’s van, Michael showed them the photographs she had taken so far.

“Here’s Channing meeting with this red-haired fella … not got an I.D. for him yet. I thought he looked suss so I followed him and let Channing off the hook for the time being. Good job I did, cause … Look. At. This.” Bridget watched as the excited journalist scrolled through the digital images to get to the next event. “Here he is at the marina. He goes to this cabin cruiser, the _“Colleen”_ and talks to a third man … an envelope is exchanged … back to his car …” Michael flicked through the photos rapidly, filling in the context as she went. “He drives a couple of hundred metres here, to the nature reserve, takes this crate out of the boot and hides it in the scrub.” She looked from Bridget to Judy in expectation.

“What was in it?” Judy asked obligingly. Michael grinned, and even in the dim light from the camera Bridget could see the lines radiating from the corners of her eyes. She was evidently older than she had first thought, she realised. It was just that her enthusiasm made her seem so youthful. Michael flicked forward to some photographs of the plastic crate and its contents.

“Life jackets,” she said. “Food, water, foil blankets … everything needed for getting people out of the country.”

“My God,” Bridget breathed. She had never liked Derek Channing on a personal level, but to think that he could be mixed up in something like this was a profound shock.

“You can see why I called the cops straight away, eh?” Bridget and Judy both nodded. “And that’s not everything …” More photos followed, this time showing some kind of an opening in the side of the scrubby bank, gated with a metal grid. “I think that this is how they’ll bring them out,” she said.

“What is that?” Bridget asked, peering closer.

“Some kind of tunnel,” Michael replied. “There are a few of these tunnels running beneath Melbourne. Some people believe that they were dug by the Americans during the war, for an undisclosed purpose. There are all sorts of conspiracy theories surrounding them …”

“And what do _you_ think?” Judy asked.

Michael shrugged. “Probably they were made for drainage or something boring like that … But,” and her eyes gleamed, “Sometimes it’s fun to imagine that a secret city exists underground, beneath Melbourne, one that we know nothing about.”

Bridget scoffed. “I think that whatever this is that you’ve uncovered is quite exciting enough.”

“Yeah,” Michael replied, sobering up. “Those poor women. They must be so scared.” Bridget nodded. And now all they could do was wait. And hope.

⁂

“Urgh! Sorry, sweetheart. I know you must have better things to do than listen to me worry.” Allie gave that sweet, low laugh of hers that always made Bea’s insides hum happily.

“I haven’t, as it happens,” she murmured.

“It’s driving me crazy not being able to be down there at the marina …”

“I would’ve gone y’know. Stood in for you.”

“I know. But I’d rather you stayed with Debbie. And I need to know you’re safe.”

“I can look after myself. I’m quite the badass … Stop laughing!”

“Sorry, Sunshine. I just have trouble imagining that.”

“Hmph. Well, I actually think that the right people are on the spot. Michael, Judy and the doc have got it covered.”

“It’s lucky that Michael is on such good terms with the detective. I can’t imagine that they usually allow civilians so close to a bust.”

“Yeah, but if Michael hadn’t done the legwork, the police wouldn’t have a clue what was going on. They owe her. And I know you wish you could be there. It’s shit that you don’t get to be in on this part when you were the one who set it all in motion. But you have to remember, if it wasn’t for you no one would even be _looking_ for those women.” Bea made a disparaging sound. “No. It’s _true._ And you should own it. I’m proud of you,” Allie said emphatically.

Bea’s mouth closed tightly. She didn’t know what to say or what to do with Allie’s pride. It was still an unfamiliar feeling to have someone think so highly of her. Her old self wanted to reject it out of hand: no one could possibly find anything in her to be proud of. Leaving aside all the names Harry used to call her, by her _own_ estimation she was stubborn and high tempered, both of which had caused no end of trouble and waste in her life. But her new self, the one that had been nurtured, first by Allie and then by Dr Westfall, had been told that she could and should take pride in her achievements. And in this case her stubbornness _had_ paid off. Her refusal to shrug her shoulders at the absence of her friend, a woman most people had written off, had led to the discovery of what appeared to be a people smuggling operation.

“Thanks, Allie,” she said, managing to resist the impulse to say something that evaded her pride. “I only hope it’s not too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.
> 
> The "Hope springs eternal in the human breast" quote is from Alexander Pope "An Essay on Man" (1732)
> 
> Oh, and the tunnels under Melbourne and the conspiracy theories surrounding them are really real. 👀


	45. “The Baby-Blue Expression”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the eyes have it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for QueenieB from NYC.

Bridget doubted that she would ever forget the sight of those terrified and bedraggled women emerging from the tunnel entrance. Police officers immediately surrounded the women and their kidnappers, employing incandescent lighting to stun them as they shouted commands and brandished firearms. Time seemed to stretch and slow unnaturally when Bridget recognised Doreen Anderson, arms raised above her head, partially in an act of surrender, partially in an attempt to protect her eyes from the lights. The expression on her face was one of bewilderment and fear; a _what now?_ expression. _What more can befall me?_

Bridget jumped out of the van and jogged over to the scene, not sure if the police would let her anywhere near, but feeling the need to act. Predictably, an officer barred her way. She could feel Judy’s sturdy presence at her shoulder as she fished out her Department of Corrections pass and attempted to explain to the officer who she was, battling with the noise of police vehicles and ambulances roaring into the carpark. She was getting nowhere, but she could see Michael working similarly to attract the attention of one senior-looking officer who was speaking urgently into a walkie-talkie. Paramedics were now attending to the rescued women, Bridget counted six in total, and the men who had accompanied them were restrained on the ground.

The moment that Doreen spotted her almost made her heart stop. She stared uncomprehendingly at Bridget for the longest moment as Bridget raised one hand in a feeble gesture of greeting. Sudden understanding dawned and Doreen’s face became a picture of surprise and then relief. Bridget saw her lips move. _Doctor Westfall._ She started as if to make her way towards her, but a paramedic had her by the shoulders, wrapping her in a blanket and attempting to lead her to an ambulance. Bridget sidestepped the officer in front of her and began to edge around the circle of pandemonium in the direction that the paramedic was heading.

_“Doreen!”_

Another officer barred her way. “Sorry, Miss …” he began.

“It’s alright. Let them through,” the senior officer shouted over. Michael was at his side, grinning and brandishing her camera. The officer stepped back and Bridget was able to rush forward. Doreen’s face was grey with fear and fatigue, her burgeoning belly straining against the fabric of her stained sweatshirt. Bridget stopped in front of her, not sure what was appropriate from her at a time like this. Doreen made it easy for her by holding out both of her hands for Bridget to take. An enormous grin split Doreen’s face even as tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks.

“Doreen,” Bridget said, taking both of her hands and squeezing them. “Thank God you’re safe!”

 _“Doc._ How are you even here?” Doreen asked through her tears.

“Bea,” Bridget stated simply. “She wanted to be here tonight, but she has a curfew …”

 _“Bea?”_ Doreen said with a sob. Bridget folded her into her arms, protocol be damned.

“She’s been searching for you for weeks …” she said into the shaking woman’s ear. “She wanted me to tell you that she still plans to be your birth partner.” Doreen gave a strangled sobbing laugh. “All your mates … they’ve all been so worried …” Bridget drew back so that the paramedic could sit Doreen down on the tailgate and attach a blood pressure cuff and an oximeter. Behind them, in the ambulance, another woman was being checked over by a second paramedic.

Judy touched Bridget on the shoulder. “I’m just gonna call Bea and let her know that we’ve got them.” Bridget nodded.

“What happens now?” Bridget asked the paramedic.

“We’ll take them all to the Royal Women’s Hospital. They’ll be given whatever general treatment they need and be obstetrically assessed,” she replied.

“Can I ride along?” Bridget asked.

The paramedic shook her head. “Sorry. I’m gunna be transporting two heavily pregnant women in here. There’s no room for spectators. But you can meet us there.”

“Righto. Doreen … we’re gunna follow the ambulance. Okay?” Bridget was afraid that she would panic, being taken away only moments after her rescue. But Doreen nodded in resignation.

“Where’s Lexie?” she asked suddenly, looking around.

“Right here, Dor,” came a muffled voice from inside the ambulance. “Can’t get rid of me that easily …”

“Lexie Patterson?” Bridget asked in wonder.

The young woman’s head came up from the gurney where she lay. Tugging off the oxygen mask she was wearing, she said, “Who the hell are you?”

“Bridget Westfall,” she replied promptly. “Is there anyone you would like me to call for you?” The woman laughed.

“You gotta be kidding,” she replied. “It’s just me and the bub,” she said, rubbing her bump. Bridget just nodded at that. There was nothing to be said to soften that harsh fact. Apart from Doreen, that was probably the one thing that these women had in common: no one to miss them when they were stolen away.

⁂

Allie hesitated to intrude. She lingered by the door with Debbie as Bea rocked Doreen in her arms. They were both talking, laughing and crying at the same time. When they parted, Doreen's eyes met hers over Bea's shoulder. Her gaze flicked to Deb and her face split into a huge grin. 

"Debbie," she began. "And Allie …" She gestured them over and drew them each into a brief hug. "Sorry … I feel like I know you already. From the photos Bea had up in her cell."

"Of course," Allie said in understanding. "It's such a relief to know you're safe at last."

"Thanks to you guys. Dr Westfall told me everything you've done."

"It was all Bea …"

"It was a team effort," Bea said with a smile. She moved out of the way as a nurse came in to make her checks. "What'd the doc say about the baby?"

"As fit as a fiddle and aiming to make his or her appearance any day now," she said with pride.

"And how about you?" Bea queried with a frown. 

"My blood pressure's up. But other than that, not too bad, considering. They looked after us pretty well because they needed the babies to be healthy." Bea just shook her head at that, seemingly struck dumb by the thought of babies being taken from their mothers and sold to wealthy would-be parents abroad.

"Have the police spoken to you yet?"

"Yeah. I told them what I could remember about where we were kept and everything. They've made some arrests, they said, but they wouldn't say anymore."

"It was Channing," Bea spat. "A creepy suit from the department. And Miss Davidson was involved too, looks like."

"Bloody hell," Doreen breathed. "The others weren't prisoners, though. Apart from me and Lexie, they were pregnant girls, on the game, snatched from the streets." Allie's stomach clenched angrily. Focussed on Doreen, she felt more than saw Bea glance at her.

"The people who did this. All of them. They're gunna get theirs," Bea told her emphatically. 

⁂

"Sweetheart," Bea said, stepping into Allie's bedroom. "Got something on your mind?"

"What makes you say that?" Allie asked with a small smile as she lay herself down on the bed.

"I don't know … maybe those looks you've been giving me over Debbie’s head all afternoon."

Allie scoffed. "What looks?"

"Bedroom eyes," Bea replied with a suppressed grin.

"I have not," Allie replied indignantly. Bea lay down beside her and draped her arm over her middle. She regarded her seriously. 

"Whatever you need, beautiful girl, I'm here for."

 _"Mm,"_ Allie replied happily, turning those baby-blues upon her. "Whatever?" she asked with a suggestive smirk. Bea nodded but didn't smile.

"I know it got to you. What Doreen said earlier." Allie didn't respond except to bury her face in Bea's chest. Bea stroked her hair, wondering at this new, vulnerable Allie. "You're thinking that it could have been you. Or someone you knew, aren't you?"

"How'd you know?" she asked in a small, muffled voice. 

"Because I was thinking the same thing."

Allie sighed hugely. "It's stupid, I know …"

"It's not stupid. It's natural." They were both quiet for a minute. "So. What do you need, sweetheart?"

"Just hold me."

Bea was happy to comply. She wrapped her up in her arms and held her close.

⁂

Gidge looked tired but Franky was probably the only person who would be able to tell exactly how tired. Franky had caught sight of her earlier having an urgent looking conversation with Miss Bennett. Her sparking eyes and furious body language were a sight to behold. Franky, who had been wheeling a cart past on her way to the laundry, had stopped dead and backtracked several steps in order to watch, a grin spreading across her face. The Governor was looking put upon. Franky couldn't hear what was being said from the other side of the glass but Gidge was haranguing and Vinegar Tits was raising her hands defensively and looking away in frustration. Franky loved how passionate Gidge could get and thought there was nothing sexier than watching this five-foot spitfire taking someone on. She didn’t doubt that, in this case, it would concern the welfare of one of the women. After a moment longer Miss Bennett noticed Franky standing there and made an impatient gesture for her to move along. Gidge turned around and they made eye-contact long enough for Franky to send a non-verbal message of love and pride and for Bridget’s face to relax in response.

Now they were in Gidge’s office, ostensibly for a psych session, and Franky was concerned about the dark moons she could see waxing beneath Bridget’s eyes.

“What the fuck's going on, Gidge? You look knackered,” Franky said, wanting nothing more than to break one of Bridget’s rules and take her in her arms.

“Thanks a lot!”

“Nah, not like that,” Franky said seriously. “You look tired. Did you have a bad night?”

“I had an excellent night,” Bridget informed her. “But no sleep.”

Franky listened attentively as Gidge told her about the stakeout at the nature reserve and the rescue of Doreen and the other women. Was it wrong that Gidge's professional capability and devotion to duty made Franky so proud, and that her pride in turn made her kinda horny?

“Judy and I spent the whole night at the hospital, supporting the women while they made their statements to the police,” she concluded.

 _“Oh, Gidge.”_ No wonder those blue eyes looked so tired. “But Doreen’s alright? And the baby?”

“Yeah. They’re keeping Doreen in but I think it’s just a precaution really. Plus … that baby is coming any day now.”

Franky grinned. “I can’t wait to tell the others. They’re gunna be stoked!”

Franky saw Bridget's face relax into a smile as she took in Franky’s joy. "You should tell Vera you're feeling crook, take the rest of the day off and get some sleep," Franky told her.

"It's _Miss Bennett_ to you, and … I don't think she'll be inclined to do me any favours at the moment," Bridget said heavily. 

"I saw the two of ya getting into it earlier. What's that all about?"

Bridget's lips curved prettily, her eyes lighting up. "I saw you perving on me from the corridor," she said, looking at Franky from under her lashes. _So sexy_. Franky folded her arms and looked at the ceiling, a low sound of want escaping her throat. Bridget smiled harder. It just wasn't fair. Gidge made all these rules about kissing and touching and then went and gave her a look like that. It was nothing short of torture. In any other circumstances she'd have her pressed up against the desk, her tongue in that smirking mouth and one hand up her skirt. Self-restraint was _not_ a Franky Doyle trait.

" _Gidge_ …" she growled in frustration. 

"Sorry, baby," she said, and, taking pity on her, she straightened her face and abandoned the teasing before continuing with her gripe against the Governor.

"I just can't work out how, as Erica Davidson's deputy, Vera could have allowed two prisoners to be abducted from under her nose without noticing." Bridget spoke those words, enunciating clearly and slowly in a way that told Franky exactly how angry she was. 

"Erica _fucking_ Davidson was in on it then?" Franky asked.

"Looks that way," Bridget sighed. "The police can't locate her. She may have fled the country."

"That fucking bitch. If I ever catch up with her …"

"Get in the queue, Franky."

⁂

“Babe … I’m home …” Allie called out. “I got everything you asked for … Babe?” Entering the kitchen she found Bea on her knees with her head almost in the oven. “Smells great,” Allie said. “You’re not doing a Sylvia Plath on me are you? ‘Cause I really think it’s gunna go fine ...” she joked.

“Huh? No, just basting these. How’d you do?” Bea asked as she stood up and closed the oven door.

“Great. I got the wine and the flowers. Pomegranate seeds … and they even had sumac.” Allie flourished her purchases. “And … look what I found …” In a separate bag she had the several new-born baby outfits that she had been unable to resist. She held them up one at a time for Bea to exclaim at. “And these tiny socks! Look how cute they are … Doreen won’t mind, will she?”

“Of course not. She has literally nothing. I’m sure she’ll be extremely grateful.” Allie smiled at Bea, but Bea was looking flushed and pensive. Allie put the socks down on the table and wrapped her arms about her, pulling their bodies flush together.

“What’s up, Bea _-utiful?_ ” she asked. Bea shrugged. Allie waited and watched as Bea’s eyes shied first one way and then the other. Eventually she rested her head against Allie’s shoulder and spoke.

“I never asked you if … if you want to have babies,” she said hesitantly. “Which is selfish of me, and …”

Allie interrupted her with a surprised laugh. “It’s not selfish, it’s just never come up …”

“But, if you wanted to … I would be fine with that …” 

“Fine?” Allie asked, amused. “If we were to have a baby together I’d want a little more enthusiasm than that!” Bea huffed against her before she drew back and regarded her seriously.

“But we should talk about it, maybe. Just because I’ve already done the whole baby thing once doesn’t mean …” She sighed and Allie could tell that she felt as though she was making things worse. And did Bea think she was broody? Allie laughed to herself. _No way._ But, considering the shopping spree this morning and the lure of those impossibly tiny clothes, could she maybe have a point? Allie swallowed the thought nervously.

“The truth is, I kinda struck the idea off some time ago,” Allie told her. “With my endometriosis being so severe, the consultant said it would be highly unlikely that I could get pregnant in any case, so … I’ve tended not to think about it … _Oh_ … ” Suddenly Bea was squeezing her tightly.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart …” Bea said, her voice roughened by incipient tears.

“It’s okay,” Allie replied easily, no longer sure who was comforting who. “I’m not even sure if I would’ve wanted to …”

“But to have the option taken away … “

“Yeah, well. What with the boys, all my foster placements and now Debbie, I hardly feel like I’m missing out,” Allie declared.

Bea parted her lips as though to say something but evidently thought better of it and closed them again. _She was going to say that it’s not the same thing,_ Allie thought. She thought of how Kaz had rescued her from the streets and cared for her ever since. She had effectively taken the place of her mother, and their lack of shared biology and the fact that Allie was already a teenager when they met did not lessen their connection. And she thought about how Liz had filled that mother-shaped hole in Bea’s life while she had been inside. Bea had never put it in such terms, but just hearing about Liz and the things she had said to and done for Bea made it clear to her that she inhabited that surrogate mother space. It annoyed her, the attitude that prevailed in society, that birth mothers somehow had higher status than other kinds of mothers; that foster mothers, stepmothers, co-parents, aunts and female friends who did all the work of mothering were somehow _less._ She couldn’t help thinking that, if anything, their contribution was _more_ , lacking, as it was, the biological imperative.

“Don’t say it,” she warned Bea, who flushed guiltily.

“Sorry. I won’t. But there _is_ something special about a baby in the family … however you come by that baby.”

“Hmm. Maybe,” Allie allowed, her mind straying. _Was it possible that Bea wanted another baby?_ _Wow._ It shocked Allie to discover that that idea had never occurred to her before. And that the thought of Bea with a baby in her arms, _their baby,_ was unexpectedly moving. She decided to file that away for further thought. “A conversation for another time, I think?” she asked peaceably. Bea nodded soberly.

“Yeah. We’d better get a move on before our guests arrive.” Bea turned as though to gather up the shopping that Allie had deposited on the table. As she did so, a shaft of sunlight coming through the patio doors lit up her hair so that it created a rosy halo around her head. The pink light reflected onto her face, illuminating it in a way that made a shocked Allie breathless at this brand new beauty that Bea suddenly wore. Truly, it was like she was seeing her again for the first time. Allie grabbed hold of her arm and drew her back.

“Where do you think you're going, my love?” she asked with a smile. Bea raised her eyebrows as though she had no idea what Allie meant, but Allie saw her eyes stray immediately to her lips and knew that her intention had been read. She scraped her teeth meaningfully over her lower lip, just in case there was any doubt. Bea broke into a smile that only made Allie’s heart leap all the harder. And then she kissed her.

⁂

Debbie had been laughing all afternoon. Bea knew this because she had been watching her all afternoon. Her and Omeo. And the relief was huge, because Omeo was nothing like Harry and surely never could be. She had liked him from the first moment Debbie had brought him into the house. He was tall and lanky, with dark smiling eyes and a generous mouth. His loose limbed gait was by turns clumsy and graceful, as can be the case with any young animal. He reminded Bea of a Great Dane pup, solemn and ridiculous by turns. He was polite to his hosts and the other guests and socially easy, able to joke and be serious as appropriate. But what Bea liked about him most was the way that Debbie laughed and smiled in his company. She was clearly smitten by him, but Bea felt as confident as she could after one afternoon’s acquaintance, that he would be a good person for her to spend time with and, who knew, maybe fall for.

The food had been a hit and they had had a thoroughly enjoyable time. It was one of those rare occasions when the selection of guests, food and wine combined to make the meal more than the sum of its parts: it was a lunch that Bea knew would linger in her mind. Florence had a natural ability as an entertainer, and had them all in stitches, even the initially morose Robbie. After dessert Bea had noticed that Allie and Robbie had disappeared and concluded that Allie had manufactured an opportunity to speak to her brother privately and find out what was on his mind. When they returned, Bea saw that, while Robbie seemed lighter, Allie was evidently preoccupied by whatever they had spoken of. She threw herself into the elaborate coffee-making ritual that, as Bea had observed before, had something of the quality of meditation about it. Bea left her to it.

When her phone vibrated in her pocket her first impulse was to ignore it. After all, they had guests. But some sixth-sense urged her to at least look at the screen. Judy. She excused herself and answered the call.

“Bea!” Judy all but yelled, her excitement evident from the lack of volume control. “The hospital called. It’s started. Get your butt over there …”

 _“Shit!_ Okay. On my way. Thanks Jude.”

⁂

Allie fumbled for the light switch on her bedside lamp. Her phone was dancing its way towards the edge of the table.

“Hello?” she asked sleepily, closing one eye against the brightness of the lamp.

“It’s a boy!”

Allie laughed. “Congratulations!” she exclaimed, tickled to hear the excitement in Bea’s voice.

“A gorgeous little baby boy!”


	46. “You Got to Have Luck”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we consider how Lady Luck might have played her part.

Bea was settled in a corner of the couch looking very comfortable. Allie, on the other hand, was finding it difficult to relax. She stood in the middle of the room, uneasily readjusting her clothes, primed to fetch whatever Bea needed next: a muslin, a bottle, a soft toy.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Bea told her. “Come and sit down.” She patted the seat next to her. Allie wondered how she even dared to hold the baby with only one arm; he was so tiny and helpless. Allie was used to kids, but not such little ones, ones that couldn’t speak and had so many vulnerabilities. Still, she sat down beside Bea, because she wanted to be close to her love’s calm contentment. She wanted to peer into her face and see the serene bliss that only Joshua was able to generate. If it wasn’t such a ridiculous thing to be jealous of a baby, Allie might have felt jealous of this ability that he had to make Bea happy. Rationally, she knew that she made Bea happy in lots of ways, but she had never seen this particular expression on Bea’s face until Josh came along.

“I can’t believe she’s left him alone with us,” Allie commented. She reached out a finger and stroked his tiny, peachy cheek.

“It’s only for an hour or two,” Bea replied. “Plus, he’s fast asleep now.” Allie stared at his tiny, pursed lips. It was hard, now, to remember the painful volume and pitch of his cries from half an hour ago, or the way he had inhaled almost the whole four ounces of formula. Bea had winded him like the expert she clearly was, despite the long time that had passed since Debbie was this age. Allie had been trying to remember Joe as a baby. She knew she ought to be able to, but somehow that belonged to another life that was closed to her now; the life of a carefree child with no responsibilities who spent her time playing with her other brothers and took the presence of a baby in the house for granted. By the time their mum had died he had left the baby stage behind and was an exhausting and inexhaustible small boy. Allie smiled to remember that little blond head bobbing along as he followed her around the house. She must ask Dad if he could find the baby photos of the four of them. Bea would like to see them, she was sure.

“And look how much bigger he is already,” Bea continued. “Four weeks old. It goes so quickly.”

“Doreen looked really tired,” Allie said.

“Yeah. She was ready for a break,” Bea agreed quietly, dropping a light kiss onto the sleeping baby’s forehead. “Here, take him for a minute. I have to pee,” she said, holding her arms out to Allie to pass him over. Allie tamped down her anxiety. She wasn’t sure about holding such a small baby but didn’t want Bea to think she was a coward. So she held out her arms and Bea juggled him across. “Support his head … That’s it.” Bea grinned at her and Allie knew she hadn’t fooled her for a moment. “You’re a natural,” she reassured her. “Back in a sec.”

Allie looked down at the baby’s face. His mouth was working energetically as though at some phantom nipple and Allie chuckled quietly. She’d had dreams _almost_ like that herself. She lowered her face to his, breathing in the new, milky smell of him. _Not too bad, when he doesn’t need changing._ She relaxed back into the cushions. He was the perfect size for cradling in your arms and he wasn’t yelling in protest, so she supposed she must not be too terrible at this after all.

When Bea came back into the room she stopped to admire them, that dopey grin overtaking her face once more. “So beautiful,” she murmured, reaching for her phone and snapping a photo.

“Who? Me or him?” Allie asked, very much hoping it was her.

Bea smiled knowingly. “The two of you together,” she replied. She sat down beside her and coaxed Allie half into her lap so that she could put her arms around both of them. She laid her cheek against Allie’s and Allie could feel her smile contentedly. And she had to admit, it felt pretty good.

Full arms, full heart.

⁂

 _Five times._ Franky had been questioned about Jacs’s murder five times now. The cops seemed convinced that Franky had ordered the kill, based on what Simmo had told them about Jacs’s plan to kill her. It didn’t appear to matter how often she told them that she had not known of that plan until after Jacs was dead, they persisted in their belief. A lengthy search of the CCTV files had eventually led them to a moment of suppressed violence when she and Jacs had got in each other's faces over something or other. Franky couldn’t even remember. And there was no sound on the clip. But it looked bad. And she didn’t like the crease of concern that appeared between Gidge’s brows each time she learned that Franky had been called in for another round of questioning. So. Time to set things in motion.

“Maxine.”

“Franky?”

“Got someone you can trust to do a little job for me?”

“Liz’ll make you a cuppa, won’t you Liz?”

Liz looked up blankly from her magazine. “Huh?”

“Never mind.”

“Not a cuppa. Another kind of job,” Franky said with a significant look.

Maxine returned the look knowingly. “Any reason why I can’t do it myself?”

Franky shook her head. “Not you. Not Booms. Someone outside of H1 that we have no known connection with. Someone who can fly under the radar.”

“I might know someone …”

“Someone who we can trust to keep quiet for the right sum?”

“Oh yeah. If you’ve got a motza …”

Franky puffed out a breath that made her hair fly up in front. “I’ll have to liquidate some assets … but should be doable.” Maxine nodded and Franky leant closer and began to whisper in her ear.

⁂

Bea sat on Allie's right whilst Seb took the seat to the left so that he could stretch his legs into the aisle once the concert started. Bea couldn't wait for the lights to go down and the concert to begin. This wasn't like when Debbie was little and all the parents knew each other. She didn't know any of these people, Harry having effectively cut her off from school activities for several years. She didn't know these people and yet was certain that they all knew who she was and that they were gossiping amongst themselves about Debbie Smith's jailbird mother daring to show her face. The only alternative reaction she could conceive of, and the one she least wanted to consider, was pity. Pity for the poor abuse victim. Pity for Deb and all she had been through. She turned her head and regarded her girlfriend's perfect profile as a distraction from her thoughts. 

Allie seemed so at home here. She had already spoken familiarly to Debbie's music teacher, and even Seb appeared to belong, looking around with anticipation and blending in nicely with the proud grandparents. Allie turned and smiled at her as the lights finally dimmed. 

"Here we go," she said proudly, craning her head for a better view of Debbie. The band struck up and Bea was shocked at what a complete sound they created playing together. For weeks they had been tormented by Debbie's threadbare sounding trumpet part; the same notes played over and over again, the sour notes gradually disappearing, the high notes strained over until they eventually sounded as clear and bell-like as their counterparts in the lower register. Debbie had worked so hard and now her trumpet part came together with the rest of the band to create a complete tapestry of sound. There was the unifying warp and weft provided by the timpani and trombones, whilst the elaborate pattern of melody was stitched together by the trumpets, saxophones and keyboard. Bea closed her eyes the better to listen and tipped her head back in joy. It was so sweet a sound that her jaw ached with it and her eyes burned with tears of pride.

The band played two more standards and then segued into a Christmas medley. After that there were carols to join in with, a demonstration from the dance troupe and a speech and many thank yous from the school principal. And then they were out into the evening air, cool after the stuffiness of the school auditorium. In a few more minutes, Debbie joined them, flushed with success and talking a mile a minute about everything that had gone right and laughing about the bits that had gone wrong. Bea hugged her and took her trumpet case out of her hand. Allie grabbed her music and they headed back to the car.

As she sat beside Allie and watched her hands on the steering wheel, she reflected on the evening. A school concert. It was something that most people took for granted, but for her it was special. Special because Debbie had distinguished herself, and because Allie was there to share it. Special in its very ordinariness. It felt like normal life was, at last, catching up with her. Tonight Allie would drop her off at Driscoll House instead of taking her home, but in just a few days she had her two day pass, meaning that she would spend Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with her family at the home that she hoped she would very soon be sharing with them full time.

As if she could read her mind, Allie reached across and momentarily laid her hand on Bea's thigh, sharing a private smile of satisfaction. Bea tuned out Debbie and Seb's conversation from the back seat and focussed on the serene expression that Allie wore when she concentrated on driving. How lucky she was. It was almost mind boggling how much her life had changed. Last Christmas she and Debbie were still being terrorised by Harry, and it was only a couple of weeks later that she had lost her mind and killed him. And yet here she was, time served, parole conditions so far met, a job, a future. A life. A love. A family. Killing Harry had been the wrong thing to do, and yet, somehow, the stars had aligned to bring Bea and Debbie into the influence of Allie's gravity. And the result? They were both drawn in and orbiting contentedly, basking in, but not burned by, her radiance.

Goldilocks indeed.

⁂

“They found it?” Gidge asked excitedly. “So, then. You’re in the clear?”

“Yep,” Franky grinned, pleased to see the tension finally leave her shoulders.

“Mercado, huh?” Gidge said with a shake of the head. “Why? What was it all about?”

“Something about a grudge. I dunno. Mercado’s some kinda psycho.” Bridget gave her a look of reproof.

“Tina Mercado is not stupid. She must have had a good reason …”

“I don’t know, alright?” Franky retorted irritably. Bridget’s eyebrows went up. Franky sighed. “All that matters is that I’m in the clear. And that I can expect to be up for parole sooner rather than later.” The silence stretched out. Franky took a step towards her and took her hand. Bridget didn’t resist, but neither would she look at her. “This is _good_ news …” Franky insisted.

Bridget raised her eyes and searched Franky’s face. _Fuck_. She was done for. “Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with this shiv turning up now?” Bridget asked pleadingly. Franky looked at the floor, unable to answer. “Baby?” she asked tremulously. When Franky still didn’t reply, she turned away with a groan.

“Gidge? I had to. I’m not fucking doing time for this …”

“This is going to come back and bite you in the arse,” Bridget hissed furiously. “You want to do time for conspiracy instead?”

“I’m untouchable in this. Trust me,” Franky insisted.

“Was Mercado even involved?” Bridget asked angrily.

“That doesn’t matter,” Franky replied impatiently. “More than one woman has died in here because of the crap she peddles, cut with fuck knows what!”

 _“Franky!_ Justice doesn’t work like that.”

 _“Justice_ doesn’t work at all,” Franky replied sullenly. Bridget’s face softened. They both knew too many women who had been screwed over by the criminal justice system to argue with that. Franky drew her close again. “Gidge,” she said, looking into her worried eyes. “I’m doing this for us. So we can be together.” Bridget didn’t answer but allowed herself to rest lightly against Franky. Franky buried her face in her soft hair. “It’s all gunna work out in the end,” she murmured. “You’ll see.”

⁂

Tomorrow was Christmas day. Everything that could be prepared ahead of time was prepared. Bea and Allie sat in the back yard to enjoy the evening sun, but Bea felt uneasy. Intellectually, she knew that she had a pass and that she wasn’t expected back at Driscoll House tonight. But some part of her nervous system didn’t seem to understand this and she was finding it hard to relax.

“Why don’t we go out after all?” Allie asked. “It’ll be a good distraction.” Bea shook her head moodily. She didn’t feel like being around crowds of people tonight. Immediately, she felt bad for Allie.

“Okay. I guess we could go to a bar,” she said, attempting a smile.

Allie laughed. “I have a better idea,” she said. “Come upstairs with me.” She held out one hand and wiggled her fingers invitingly.

Bea smiled. “Now you’re just humouring me.” Allie shook her head and pulled her to her feet.

“Come and lie on the bed with me. It’ll be relaxing.”

Bea scoffed and circled her arms around her. “Lying down. That’s all?”

Allie cocked her head thoughtfully. “Maybe … maybe not. Debbie’ll be out until who knows how late,” she said, as though the idea had only just occurred to her. She traced her forefinger along Bea’s collarbone. “And, for once, you don’t have to rush off anywhere.” Bea couldn’t help but notice that Allie’s breath had already accelerated slightly. As usual, just the idea of Allie’s arousal was enough to begin the chain reaction that drove her own body to respond. She swallowed dryly and pressed her lips lightly against Allie’s, kissing her briefly and taking her breath into her own mouth. Allie’s breath came harder and Bea felt her excitement rise to meet it. She kissed her again, with more intention, and Allie pressed her body against Bea’s urgently. “Take me …” she began.

“ … upstairs?” Bea finished.

“Just. Take me.”

⁂

Allie stretched. Luxuriously. And that was it, she thought. That was how this felt. A luxury. To have Bea here in her bed with no thought of her having to leave. To be able to take their time, make as much noise as they liked, as many times as they liked … well. _Happy Fucking Christmas!_

And after her first climax, Bea’s subconscious seemed to get the message too. She had been more relaxed, taken more time, been more exploratory. _More thorough._ Allie’s body thrummed again in recollection. She turned her head to the side to look at her lover. She was sleeping soundly, stark naked on the mattress, face down. Allie smiled. They had worn each other out and soon she would join her in sleep. But for now she wanted to look at her and revel in the knowledge that they would spend the whole night together for the first time. And she wanted to relive the special experience they had just enjoyed and make sure that it was fixed in her memory.

When they had first made it up to the bedroom, they had both been keyed up with the novelty of the situation. Bea had stripped her off and made her come so hard, so quickly, that she barely knew which way was up. But once her brain had come back online she felt less jumpy. She straddled Bea’s hips and eased off Bea’s remaining items of clothing. Bea bucked impatiently beneath her, but Allie took her time. She ran her fingers all over Bea’s sensitive skin, enjoying the way she shivered and gasped, before finally reaching behind her and allowing her fingertips to brush against her wet centre. Bea growled and grabbed Allie’s hips, grinding their bodies together. _Fuck, that was hot._ Allie moved her hand out of the way and went with it for a time, their hips moving frenetically. After a minute she was struggling to concentrate and, not wanting to end this too soon, she shifted gear by moving so that she lay between Bea’s legs. She allowed their breasts to brush together as she slowly ground herself against Bea, feeling the wetness spreading between them. Bea’s darkened eyes were fixed on hers as she writhed and gasped beneath her. Eventually, her eyes fluttered closed. Her legs moved restlessly, attempting to hook onto Allie in some way as she chased her pleasure. But Allie moved slowly, deliberately putting aside her own arousal and concentrating on patiently bringing Bea up to a delirious boiling point. As Bea began to unravel, Allie kissed her lovingly, knowing how much this intimacy turned her on as she approached her orgasm. She kissed her gasping mouth, teasing her lips with her tongue, whilst keeping up the steady, relentless movement of her hips. Bea’s breathing suddenly became a whole lot noisier and shakier, and Allie knew she was close. It was so sexy to see her like this, abandoned to pleasure, and to know that she was the one responsible for taking her there. A minute later, back arched, mouth open, Bea came. Long and hard. With a loud, shuddering groan. Her body shook and her chest heaved as Allie saw her through the whole length of it until she lay spent on the mattress.

Allie curled against her while she recovered, gentling her through the occasional twitches that still ran through her.

 _“Fuck,”_ Bea finally murmured. “That was new. I feel like you might have turned me inside out.” She looked at Allie shyly. “All my nerves feel ... exposed.”

Allie dropped a kiss onto her shoulder. “In a good way, I hope.”

“In a _very_ good way,” Bea replied. “But I don’t think I can move. My muscles have gone all wobbly.”

Allie kissed her again. “You don’t need to move. Just relax, babe.” They must have fallen asleep for a while, because Allie became conscious again as Bea stirred against her.

“What time is it?” Bea asked gruffly.

Allie turned to look at her clock. “Twenty-two twenty-two,” she replied with a smile. “Bea time.”

“Bea time?” Bea asked quietly, stroking her fingers over Allie’s cheek. “What’s that?”

Allie laughed. “I never told you about that, did I?” Bea shook her head, looking bemused. “In the early days, just after I first started visiting you in Wentworth, I would lie awake at night trying very hard not to obsess about you. But when the clock changed to twenty-two twenty-two I would let myself imagine you lying in your bunk sleeping. And then it was very easy to fall asleep too. And dream of you.”

Bea laughed. She lifted her head and looked at the clock. “It looks like a row of little ducks,” she said, flopping back down. “I guess you can go to sleep now, then,” she said.

 _“No, no, no,”_ Allie told her vehemently. “Bea time means something entirely different now I have you here in my bed. No more dreaming about you. I get the real thing now.”

“Mmm,” Bea said in agreement, moving closer. “You do.” And she kissed her slowly for the longest time. Allie was lost in sensation as Bea’s lips and tongue pleasured, first her mouth, then her breasts, before moving between her legs. There the tip of her tongue teased until Allie thought she would lose her mind. When Bea introduced her fingers, all Allie could do was gasp her approval. Long, deep strokes raised her pleasure to a euphoric level and, when Bea’s fingers began to hit that sensitive spot inside her, she thought she might have made quite a lot of noise. Afterwards, it was hard to remember. It seemed likely that Bea had temporarily rewired her brain in some way. For a while she couldn’t speak. Looks and touches, however, said everything that was needful for the next few hours. At some point, Allie heard Debbie come home and creep clumsily up the stairs. Bea must have heard her too, but she made no pause in her attentions, which continued, a little more quietly, until they were both exhausted.

Now, noticing the way the small amount of light reflected from Bea’s skin and highlighted the planes of her face and the curve of her arse, Allie felt almost gleeful at her good luck in being here, with this woman that she had fallen in love with so unexpectedly. Whatever had an alley cat like herself done to deserve such astounding good fortune? She couldn’t answer, and she was too sleepy to try and work it out. Instead, she slid closer to Bea’s sleeping form, drew a sheet over them both, and cuddled up to her. In a moment she was asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas everyone! 😂
> 
> We have Valentine's day coming up. But I would like to draw your attention to the far more important festival of Pancake Day, which is next Tuesday. I hope you've got your favourite toppings picked out.


	47. "Guilty Witness"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we witness how guilt afflicts even the innocent.

Bea regarded Allie’s beautiful face, taking in her shapely pink lips and the way her lashes rested on her flushed cheeks. She looked as though she was smiling and blushing in her sleep. Perhaps she was. Perhaps she was dreaming about last night. Although Allie wasn’t exactly the blushing type.

Bea shifted a little at the memory of the love they had made last night. Her body ached pleasantly in all the right places; a little memento she would carry through the day. Their legs were entwined and one of Allie’s hands was sandwiched between Bea’s thighs, so she tried not to move and disturb her, although she was impatient for her to wake up so that she could wish her a merry Christmas. And kiss those soft lips some more. 

The bedroom was lit with pale morning light already, but the house was still and silent. Debbie had been late getting in, so she must have had a good evening with her friends. Bea didn’t anticipate her being awake anytime soon, despite her excitement about Christmas. Both she and Allie had, separately, she found out later, had a word with her about responsible behaviour. When Bea had spoken to her, she had rolled her eyes, but otherwise taken it in good part. She didn’t want to spoil her daughter’s fun, but she couldn’t afford for her to get into trouble. Not after they’d just been reunited.

Allie began to stir. Bea waited until she could see a sliver of blue between her lids before smiling at her.

“Happy Christmas, sweetheart,” she told her. Allie gave her the sleepiest, most delighted smile imaginable as her eyelids drooped closed again.

“You’re still here,” she murmured hoarsely, pulling herself against Bea more closely and resting her face against her bare chest. She snuggled in happily and made a sound of lazy contentment.

“Yes, Sunshine, I’m still here,” Bea said, laughingly. Allie raised her sleepy face towards Bea, although her eyes remained closed.

“Kiss me?” she asked in an undertone. Bea smiled tolerantly, and obliged. Sleepily, Allie opened her lips to her and groaned quietly as Bea slid the tip of her tongue into her mouth. She cleaved to Bea like a limpet and Bea’s nerve endings lit up as acres of warm, naked Allie came into contact with her own bare skin. Still exploring her mouth, she shifted her weight so that she was lying half on top of her, the better to appreciate the sensation of skin on skin. Allie wrapped her arms around her neck and tipped her head back wantonly with a gasp. Bea trailed her lips along her throat as Allie sighed and squirmed beneath her.

The way that Allie's hot body was glued to hers, the tiny sounds she was making and her soft, morning pliability were seriously arousing. But Bea had a moment of doubt. Was Allie even properly awake and aware of what was going on? She broke off her trail of kisses to check on her. Her eyes were still closed, but as soon as Bea's mouth disconnected from her skin a small frown appeared between her brows. 

"Allie?" she asked softly. 

Allie's only response was a hand on the back of Bea's head, guiding her mouth back down to her body. Bea chuckled quietly, trailed her mouth down to her right breast and took the nipple into her mouth. Allie arched up languidly and the soft sound that escaped from her left Bea in no doubt of her consent. She might be unusually loose-limbed and quiet but that didn't mean that she didn't know exactly what she wanted. 

Watching Allie's face and her still closed eyes, Bea began to stroke her way down from her shoulders to her belly. She saw Allie's mouth begin to curve into a smile as she recognised Bea's purpose. And then her lips parted to draw in more breath as her arousal increased. Once Bea's fingers found their target, Allie once more tightened her grip around Bea's neck, clinging on as Bea stroked her slowly. Within a couple of minutes, Allie's breath was catching right by Bea's ear. A series of soft moans and a gentle undulation of her hips sent Bea's heart into overdrive. Her sleepy, sexy girl was getting there and she wanted nothing more than to see and hear her reach and overtop the peak she was approaching. Allie groaned quietly as she gently slipped inside her with first one, then two, fingers. She was surprised to feel Allie's slick walls tighten around her fingers almost immediately. And after only a few strokes she was panting into Bea's ear, her muscles rippling as she came. She exhaled shakily into Bea's ear, gasped a few times and then subsided. 

Bea felt Allie's chest vibrate with a satisfied chuckle. Gently, she kissed her shoulder and her breasts, feeling at once elated to have brought Allie this easy, early pleasure, and protective of her, of the way she had opened herself up so carelessly. The knowledge of trust earned and respected swelled her heart. Reaching up for a kiss, she saw that Allie's face had relaxed back into sleep, a smile still brightening her face. She laughed quietly and shook her head in wonder before laying herself back down to wait.

⁂

Allie flopped onto the couch with a sigh. She had eaten too much, but it had been the most satisfying Christmas day since she was eleven years old. Debbie had been childishly excited by all her presents, Bea was pleased with the gym membership Allie had got her, even though it was as much a present for herself as for Bea, and Bea had gifted her an antique looking silver locket which, upon opening, she found contained miniature portraits of the two of them, drawn by Bea herself. Allie loved it and was instantly inseparable from it, though she wondered how Bea had managed to afford it on the money she earned at the coffee shop. When Bea later revealed that it had belonged to her mother, Allie became even more devoted to it. The length of the attached chain meant that the locket itself rested beneath her shirt, between her breasts: a satisfyingly intimate spot for it, Allie felt. She scooped it up in her fingers now, and caressed the casing thoughtfully.

After presents, they had rushed around getting lunch prepared before she went to fetch Doreen and Josh from their new unit. When they got back to the house, it was to find that Kaz had arrived - rather earlier than expected. Allie knew a moment of dread, half anticipating that she and Bea would have come to blows whilst she was out of the house. But, unexpectedly, tranquillity reigned.

And continued to reign. It seemed that the presence of a baby cast a curiously calming spell on Kaz. She cradled Josh in her arms all through lunch, eating in an awkward one-handed style, and so pleased with this arrangement that she grinned round the table at everyone. Allie knew that Kaz had been delighted to help Judy find Doreen a unit and access charitable funds to rent and furnish it. Such actions always brought out the best in Kaz, Allie found. Now the young mum had enough money behind her to pay her expenses for several months, by which time they had hopes that her compensation would have come through. Doreen reported that her parole officer was walking on eggshells around her, seemingly mortified at what had happened to her. Kaz grinned even harder at this.

Now evening had fallen, and Allie’s eyes tracked Bea as she finished up in the kitchen. It never mattered how satisfied Allie was with its cleanliness and tidiness, Bea always found a few extra jobs to do. Allie had learned not to mind. It seemed to power down Bea’s nerves and allowed her to relax and, as long as Allie didn’t think about the reasons that this habit might have formed, it was fine with her. Bea finally hung up the tea towel and sauntered into the lounge room with her hands bunched into the back pockets of her jeans. Allie held out a hand from her half supine position and waved it impatiently. Bea smiled and took it in hers as she sat down and fitted her body to Allie’s.

“Just us at last,” Bea murmured with her lips against Allie’s neck.

“Mmm,” Allie hummed contentedly. Debbie was upstairs in her room, doubtless messaging Omeo.

“Did you mind? That it wasn’t just us for our first Christmas?” Bea asked.

“No, of course not. We could hardly let Doreen and Joshie spend the day alone, could we?” she asked rhetorically. “Besides … It was lovely. Like a proper family with all the generations.”

“Speaking of _proper_ family, we have it all to do again tomorrow,” Bea reminded her.

Allie laughed. “Well, Dad _never_ cooks, so I can’t imagine what it’s gunna be like.”

“We have plenty of leftovers. Do you think he’d be offended if we took them along?”

“No. That’s a good idea.” Allie groaned and rubbed her belly. “But let’s not talk about _food,”_ she complained.

 _“Poor baby,”_ Bea said in a mocking tone. She trailed her hand over Allie’s stomach, before pausing on the button of her trousers. “I would suggest something to take your mind off it, but I doubt you can even move …”

Allie jumped to her feet. “No, I’m good. See?” she said brightly, tugging on Bea’s hand. “But not here … in case …” she gestured with her head towards Debbie’s room. Bea stood up and gave her a brief kiss, full of breathy promise.

“I doubt we can better last night’s record …” she said with an arch of one eyebrow.

“... no harm in trying, though,” Allie replied pertly. She gave Bea’s bum a two-handed squeeze and watched as she tried to suppress a delighted smile. The light in her eyes was so bright and unguarded that Allie felt her own eyes prick in response. _“God, I love you!”_ she told her impetuously. Bea laughed and held her tighter.

“I love you too. _Sunshine._ ”

⁂

“Bea?”

“Hm?” Bea asked, looking up briefly from the drawing of Nova she was working on.

“I was thinking … now that we’re into the New Year …”

Bea looked up again, alerted by an unusual note in Allie’s voice. She concentrated. Allie was leaning casually against the doorframe, but something about it seemed _off._ She looked relaxed, apart from the way that she was twisting her fingers together, but she certainly didn’t _sound_ like herself. Her voice was slightly strangulated, as though a tightness in her throat was constricting her voice. She seemed nervous. It was an unusual enough occurrence to shock Bea into putting aside her sketchpad straightaway. She unfolded her legs and went to her side, automatically placing a soothing hand on her arm and giving her a questioning look.

“What’s the matter?” she asked worriedly.

Allie gave an impatient huff and rolled her eyes away. _Shit. What did I do? Why is she mad at me?_ Bea chased her gaze, noticing the teary glaze over her eyes. Allie reached out a finger and pressed the area between Bea’s eyebrows. Bea blinked in surprise.

“Stop frowning,” she instructed with an attempt at a smile. “I’m annoyed with myself, not you.”

“Oh,” Bea responded inanely. “Why?” she asked after a pause.

“Because … I have to ask you something. And I’m scared it’ll upset you,” Allie said tremulously.

“Really?” Bea asked. “Don’t be …” But Allie had already taken hold of her hand and laid it against her chest so that Bea could feel the wild beating of her heart. “Jeez, Allie … Come and sit down.” _What could it possibly be?_

They sat on the couch and Bea pulled Allie against her, more-or-less strong-arming her, until she finally cuddled into her side. She stroked that fine hair and kissed the crown of her head repeatedly, noticing that Allie had brought out her locket and was turning it nervously between her fingers.

“Whatever it is, I won’t be upset sweetheart. Just ask,” Bea finally said. Allie sighed and dropped the locket back inside her shirt, but didn’t answer for a while.

“In ordinary circumstances … I mean, if it wasn’t for everything that’s happened, then I would be pulling all the stops out right now. You know that, right?” Allie turned her eyes up to Bea and looked so imploring that Bea could only nod. “But I’m _pretty_ sure that’s not what you’d want. But I _certainly_ don’t want you to think I don’t care …”

“I could never think that,” Bea replied. Allie smiled in relief and pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

“Yeah?” she asked. Bea nodded and kissed her back. She made it a longish one, to give her time to think. When she broke off, Allie was pink cheeked and breathless and her usually cheeky smile was back in place, but Bea was still mystified.

“Allie?” she asked gently.

“Hmm?” Allie replied, apparently distracted now, her eyes all over Bea’s face, her fingers tugging gently at her curls.

“What did you want to ask me?”

Allie’s eyes widened. Then she swallowed. “Your birthday,” she said quietly. “Is on Monday. Babe, we can totally ignore it, or …” Bea’s hearing tunnelled to a whine of interference. _How could she have forgotten?_ If her birthday was on Monday, that meant that the anniversary of … _Harry_ … was on Sunday. The whining sound intensified and then abruptly her hearing restored itself to normal.

“Bea … _Bea_ …”

“I’m okay,” Bea muttered, glancing at Allie’s anxious face. She wiped her wet palms on her thighs and swallowed the vile taste in her mouth. Her arms felt weak and her chest was aching from the kind of adrenaline dose that she had become unused to since she was released from Wentworth. She took a couple of deep breaths and felt herself begin to steady.

“I’m sorry …” Allie was saying. But Bea waved a dismissive hand at her.

“It’s okay,” she said firmly. “I’d put it out of my mind, but this is gunna come up every year, so … we’d better come up with a way of dealing with it.” She wiped the slick of dampness off her forehead with one hand and gave Allie what she hoped was a brave smile. “I don’t suppose we can get the calendar to go straight to the sixth of January?” she joked.

Allie smiled with relief. “We could just keep it low key,” she suggested. “For now.”

Bea began to nod, but her stomach shrank at the thought of marking the day in any way. Her birthday would always be connected to the act of killing Harry, because every year, when he was alive, he would do something especially horrible on that day. And last year she had fully expected that he would kill her. And it was in anticipation of that, that she had killed him. “Allie, I really don’t think I can deal with it this year,” she said faintly. “Let’s just forget it, huh?”

“Of course,” Allie replied, her eyes full of sympathy. She had to be disappointed though, Bea reflected. She remembered how she had felt when she had known that she would miss Allie’s birthday last year.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart …”

“Don’t be. You know I would love to spoil you for your birthday, but really, I don't need an excuse. I can spoil you any day. And I will," she said with a mischievous grin. "Just you wait."

⁂

Franky slammed the steam press closed angrily. Boomer flinched and eyed her uneasily as she edged away. _Why did everything have to go to shit like this?_ Now Mercado was strutting around as though she was lit from within by a god-like ray of light. She’d had a near miss and knew it, and now she felt untouchable. So far, she didn’t seem to have detected Franky’s hand in her near disaster, but she could not rely on that remaining the case, not in here.

She’d seen Kim this morning on her way back to her unit after her arraignment. She had looked stunned by the turn of events but had apparently not breathed a word about Franky’s interference. Nor did she seem wrathful towards her. That small, sad smile made her look resigned, more than anything. But Franky was tormented by the thought that she should have just allowed the shiv to stay hidden and hoped for the best as far as the cops and their suspicions went. She was not a good person, no matter what Gidge said. She’d burned Mike Penisi, she’d killed Mrs Jackson, and now, despite trying to keep her out of it, she had implicated Kim in a murder rap. _Fucking Sky._ She was _supposed_ to have bleached the shiv before planting it in Mercado’s cell. Well, she’d done a shit job of it, _if_ she’d even bothered with that step. Kim’s DNA was picked up by the police and the scuttlebutt said that she hadn’t even bothered to deny that she’d killed Jacs.

“Doyle.” It was Smiles. “Governor wants to see you.” She gestured impatiently towards the door. _What now?_ Franky took her time over pressing her final sheet, aware of Miss Miles’s increasing annoyance, before handing off to Maxine and following after Smiles in her own good time.

⁂

Franky’s eyes were lit in a most extraordinary way. The minute Bridget’s office door closed, leaving Linda in the corridor, Franky came right up to her and stood very close, almost touching, as she often did. In the first moments when they were alone together, Franky reminded Bridget of a puppy let out into the garden to play, or a child released from school at the end of a long day. They just wanted to indulge in the thing they loved best, and for Franky that was being close to Bridget. Usually she managed to curb the instinct to touch her. But not today.

She took Bridget’s hand gently in hers. Bridget looked down and watched as Franky interlaced their fingers. When she looked back up, she was startled by the conflict in Franky’s eyes.

“What is it baby?” she asked, breaking her own rule and reaching up to touch Franky’s face. The clouds of grief were momentarily chased away by the caress, but a moment later, they were back. Light and dark; joy and despair. Her irises, that in one minute made Bridget think of bright new hawthorn leaves, were, in the next, dulled to the grudging colour of old pine needles. And all magnified by the shine of tears.

Bridget searched her face. She saw shame. And anger. And wretched guilt. But also hope and happiness. That last made Bridget smile, which in turn made Franky spin away from her and turn her face to the wall. She groaned quietly to herself.

“Franky. Talk to me,” Bridget coaxed, fighting to keep the agitation from her voice.

Franky sighed. “I did a thing,” she said miserably. “I thought it would punish someone. I thought it would _protect_ someone. But I just _fucked_ everything up. The only person it protected was me!”

“Is this about the Mercado thing?” Bridget asked. Franky nodded but wouldn’t look at her. A childish part of Bridget hated to mention the other player in this drama, but pretending she didn’t exist would just confirm that the touch of jealousy she aroused was real. “I heard that Kim Chang has been charged with Holt’s murder,” she replied, outwardly calm. Franky didn’t reply. Bridget’s heart sped up in fear. “Was it _her_ you were trying to protect?” She said it casually, professionally even.

Franky turned to face her and a new gentleness in her eyes let Bridget know that Franky wasn’t fooled. “Yeah, but not like you think, Gidge,” she said pleadingly.

 _“Really?”_ Bridget asked acidly, crossing her arms over her chest and abandoning her fake neutrality. _Was this why Franky was here? To break it off?_

Franky sat down abruptly and leant forwards, her forearms resting on her wide-spaced knees. She took a deep, calming breath, just as Bridget herself had taught her to. “Kim told me she’d killed Jacs a while ago. She did it because she heard that Jacs was going to have me whacked, and …” Franky swallowed but ploughed on bravely. “She wanted to save me. She thought if she did, I would get back with her or something.” Bridget scoffed. “I told her I wasn’t interested in her. And I’m _not,_ Gidge.” Despite her irrational jealousy, Bridget believed her. She nodded for Franky to continue. “I saw a way of diverting suspicion away from me and onto Mercado, and I took it …”

“The shiv,” Bridget supplied. Franky nodded.

“But that backfired and they pinched Kim for it,” Franky concluded. “So now I’m in the clear,” she added miserably. “So much so, that Vera just gave me a date for my parole panel …”

Bridget’s heart leapt joyfully. _“Really?_ But that’s wonderful …” she said, reaching out as if to take Franky’s hand.

Franky’s eyes blazed and angry tears overflowed. “You don’t get it! Why am I the one who’s getting out? All the _shit_ I’ve done …” She rubbed her hands over her face and hid her eyes. “No matter what you said, Gidge, when I told you what I’d done to Mrs Jackson … I’m _not_ a good person.”

Bridget’s heart pulsed with sympathy. Longing only to comfort Franky, she went down on her knees at her feet and peeled her hands away from her damp face.

“You _are,_ baby. You _are_ a good person. Nothing has changed. You didn’t kill Jacs and neither did Tina Mercado. Kim did it. And Kim will be punished for it. It’s not as if you asked her to do it. You have nothing to feel guilty about.” And, _fuck the rules._ She held Franky’s face between her hands until their eyes met, and then she kissed her, long and sweet.


	48. “You Can't Be a Little Girl All Your Life”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which life moves on.

“That’s me, then,” Bea said, dropping her single bag at her feet. She stood in the doorway of Judy’s office and peered in, unwilling to disturb her if she was busy. Judy swivelled in her seat.

“Really? Only ten minutes to pack up. That must be some kinda record,” she said. She stood up and tugged down the sleeves of her shirt before holding both arms out horizontally for a hug. Bea smiled and walked into her embrace. Judy gave her a squeeze. “We’re gonna miss you round here,” she murmured.

“Thanks for everything, Judy,” Bea told her, drawing back to look at her. “You’ve been a big help.” Judy was smiling, but her eyes were damp with sadness.

“Yeah, well. Don’t be a stranger,” she said brusquely. Bea nodded. “And … _be happy,_ yeah?” Bea nodded again and began to back towards the door. She felt a little emotional now it came down to it. Driscoll House had never been her home, just a staging post along the way, but it had done so much to ease her transition from prison to freedom. And Judy had been a big part of that. In fact, now she thought about it, Judy was just one of a long line of women who had helped her in the last year or so. Women who she could never even begin to repay. She heard the staccato clip of heels in the passageway. _Speaking of which …_

“Doctor Westfall …”

“Bea,” Doctor Westfall said in her carefully modulated tones. “I heard you were leaving us.”

“Yeah.” Bea hefted her bag as if she needed to prove the fact.

“Well, I won’t keep you, as I’m sure you’re eager to be off. But we’ll move to weekly sessions now, as per your outstanding parole requirements. Here, or we can meet somewhere else if you prefer …”

“Here will be fine. I … I don’t know how to thank you,” Bea began, already feeling a little flustered. The psychologist made a dismissive gesture.

“Not necessary,” she said kindly.

“No, but … Our sessions, your testimony. If it wasn’t for you I’d probably still be inside,” Bea said.

“All part of the service,” she assured her with a smile. “You’ve come a long way, Bea. You’ve made some excellent progress and you have a bright future, I’m sure.”

“Thanks Doc.” They shook hands.

“Now go! I’m sure Allie and Debbie are waiting for you.” Bea broke into a grin. They were. And probably impatiently, too. She shouldered her bag, took a final look around, and made for the door. It was all out there, waiting for her.

⁂

Allie hummed to herself as she put fresh sheets on what was now _their_ bed. She had heard Bea’s footsteps pass by the door and then pause. She smiled knowingly to herself as she bent over, sure that she could feel Bea’s eyes on her arse. She shook the doona vigorously, then straightened up and stripped off the shirt she had been wearing over her tank. _Phew! Changing sheets was hot work._

 _“Aagh!”_ she shrieked as a pair of warm hands unexpectedly grasped her waist from behind. Bea chuckled into her ear as she pulled her against her.

“I don’t know why you’re so surprised,” Bea whispered gruffly. “If that little show wasn’t for my benefit … then whose?”

Allie leant back against her. “I don’t know what you mean,” she replied archly, grabbing Bea’s elbows and pulling her arms around her middle more tightly. “I just thought you would appreciate some clean, fresh smelling sheets tonight.”

“Umm,” Bea purred in her ear, before placing a kiss on her neck. “I like the ones that smell of you.” Allie turned in her arms so that she could kiss her.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” she said, and kissed her harder, feeling Bea’s lips smile against her mouth. It felt so good to have her here; the best good fortune there could be. The knowledge that she would be here every night now made her feel slightly tearful, but was also surprisingly difficult to absorb. “Are you _really_ here for good now?” Allie asked her when their mouths parted. Bea looked into her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile.

“Really, truly,” she replied earnestly, holding her face between her hands.

Suddenly, mischievously, “Prove it. Roll up your trouser leg …” Bea quirked an eyebrow at her.

“If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, then … wouldn’t it be easier to just take them off?”

Allie laughed and dropped to her knees. She grabbed hold of the bottom of Bea’s trouser leg, glancing up to see her perplexed expression, and slowly turned it up, over and over. Her mouth stretched into a contented smile. Then, just to make sure, she did the same with the other leg. _Nothing._ She sat back on her haunches in satisfaction.

“You’re free, babe,” she said happily, gesturing at Bea’s bare ankles. “You can go wherever you like.”

“Except,” Bea began, holding out her hand to lift Allie to her feet. “I’m not going anywhere.” She kissed her softly. “Because I’m exactly where I want to be.”

⁂

“You’re gunna be fine,” Allie told her, straightening the collar of her blouse. “Florence wouldn’t even have asked you to interview for it if she didn’t think you could do it.”

Bea allowed her anxiety to spill over into a sound of frustration. “These fucking shoes,” she cried with an impatient scuff of her foot against the floor. “They’re gunna make my feet hurt, I know it!” She also knew she was behaving unreasonably, but couldn’t seem to help herself.

“Then wear a different pair,” Allie said reasonably, taking Bea’s hands and holding them still against her constant fidgeting, first with her waistband and then with her hair. “You look beautiful. Stop stressing.”

“I can’t even remember the last time I interviewed for a job,” Bea confessed. “I’m probably going to go blank if she asks me anything trickier than my name.” She huffed self-consciously and then blinked hard. But Allie’s eyes were on hers and she was smiling confidently. Bea took a breath and felt her pulse begin to slow.

“This is Florence we’re talking about. She’s hardly big on formality! Besides, she’s only reducing her hours, not retiring completely. And whoever gets the manager’s position …” Allie subtly pointed at Bea with her index finger, and mouthed the word _You,_ “... will have her right there to hold their hand. So you don’t have to come off as the fully finished article, just show her that you have the enthusiasm and drive to do the job. You have the potential to be a _great_ manager and that’s what you have to show her.”

“Thanks,” Bea murmured, dipping her head. As ever, she struggled to know how to respond to such words. Allie gently ran her hand over Bea’s head, careful not to muss her hair, before kissing her on the crown.

“You’d better get going. Want me to drive you?” she asked, dangling the car keys in front of her face. Bea shook her head.

“No, I’ll be right,” Bea replied, picking the keys out of Allie’s hand. Time to get real and grow up.

Half an hour later, as she sat outside Florence’s office slash store cupboard, she found it impossible to stop the tirade of put-downs that ran through her mind as her knee jigged up and down tirelessly. Doctor Westfall called this “negative self-talk” and suggested that she visualise a stop sign, or attempt to make the language of these statements more neutral. Today, neither of those things were working. So, rather than silence the _What do you think you’re doing here_ s? and the _You’re such an idiot_ s _,_ she tried to accept them for what they were. A stressful product of her own low self-esteem. _These thoughts are not reality,_ she told herself. And, _Allie would hate it if she heard me say such things about myself._ She forced herself to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth and concentrated on controlling the nervous jittering of her leg.

She was just starting to feel the benefits of her efforts when Leon exited Florence’s office. Her co-worker had gone to the trouble of wearing a suit, but he still slouched as usual and his hair still fell into his sleepy eyes. She liked Leon well enough, but he was definitely not management material. _Not much competition there,_ Bea decided, and the thought gave her an unexpected fillip.

“You’re up,” he told her with a smile. “Good luck.”

“Thanks Leon,” she said. She stood up, approached the door and knocked assertively.

“Come in Bea.”

⁂

Allie had been pacing and looking out of the window for the last half an hour before finally getting distracted by the beeping of the washing machine. So it was that she was bending over, emptying the machine when the doorbell rang. Once she hurried down the hall and opened the front door, she was confronted with a very brightly smiling Bea holding a very large bunch of very bright sunflowers. Allie laughed.

“It went well, I take it?” she asked, accepting the flowers from Bea’s hand. Bea stepped inside and lifted her off her feet before kissing her on the lips.

“Yes, thank you my love,” Bea replied, setting her back on her feet. “I …” she paused for effect, “Am the new co-manager of _The Hot Spot."_ She said with a flourish, before adding, at speed, "On a trial basis. Under Florence’s watchful eye …”

Allie gave a little shriek of delight. _“I knew it,”_ she said, basking in the triumphant glitter of Bea’s eyes.

“You did,” Bea replied, turning more serious. “Thank you for believing in me, and … Come and sit down, Allie. I want to tell you how it’s gunna be.” Allie placed her flowers on the coffee table and settled herself on the couch. She watched as Bea swallowed and composed herself. She looked like she was about to make a speech, something that was so out of character that it made Allie a little nervous. “I’m gunna work _so hard,_ sweetheart. I’m gunna make a go of this and make that place a real success. I have so many _ideas,_ and … this family is gunna thrive. You won’t have to shoulder that whole financial burden thing on your own anymore.”

“Oh babe, it’s never been a burden,” Allie told her and drew her down onto the couch beside her. “It’s always been my pleasure to look after you and Debbie however I can,” Allie told her earnestly.

“I know …”

“But you plan on being the _woman_ of the house now, do you?”

“I … I thought we could share that responsibility,” Bea said hesitantly. Allie nodded her approval.

“Absolutely. Partners. And I’m glad to hear you sounding so _passionate_ about your new job, but …” And here Allie gave her a deliberately pathetic look, “ … don’t forget who loves ya.”

Bea laughed. “I won’t …”

“Cause I know how you can be when you set your mind on something,” Allie told her in light rebuke.

“Stubborn?” Bea asked with a rueful grin.

“Maybe a little …” Allie told her, demonstrating a short distance with her finger and thumb.

“Yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll always come home to you,” Bea said, and wrapped her up in her arms.

“Um,” Allie said into her neck. She sighed out and breathed her in, allowing her muscles to soften and her body to mould to Bea’s. “I’m gunna need this every day,” she clarified. Bea scoffed. “And in the morning, before you get up for work, I’ll be expecting a cuddle. _And coffee.”_

“Okay. It’s a deal,” Bea told her, kissing the side of her head.

“And I need you home for dinner.”

“Okay.”

“Ideally, in time to _make_ it …”

“Don’t push it Novak,” Bea growled.

“But you’re a much better cook than me,” Allie whined, lifting her head to scowl at Bea.

“True …” Bea said. Allie poked her in the ribs in retribution.

“And I really love how you can get home early right now …” Allie continued.

“I really love that too,” Bea told her. Allie looked at her wistful expression and dark eyes and knew exactly what she was thinking.

“You know, the more I think about it, the less sure I am about this new job …” Allie said, mock seriously. “I mean … what do we even _need_ money for?” she deadpanned. “You could just stay at home full time so that you’re always on hand …” she trailed off meaningfully and ran her nails down Bea’s spine with just enough pressure to make her arch her back in pleasure. 

“For when you feel horny?” Bea asked with a laugh.

Allie nodded earnestly. _“Exactly.”_ Bea laughed at her neediness, but then Allie continued. “In all seriousness, I’m not ready for this honeymoon to end.”

“Oh, sweetheart. It won’t.” Allie admired Bea’s mouth as it pursed thoughtfully. “Luckily I don’t start for a few weeks yet, so we’ve got some honeymoon afternoons to take advantage of still,” Bea told her reassuringly. “And I’m not gunna be full time. Not yet. Maybe not for a year or two. I’m not convinced that Florence is ready for retirement …” Allie squirmed happily.

“Plus … I plan to make our whole lives one long honeymoon,” Bea told her, leaning closer.

“Now you're talkin’,” Allie said with a smile, accepting Bea’s lips onto hers eagerly

⁂

“Hey, Bea …” Judy called out as she passed by her office on her way to her appointment with Doctor Westfall. Bea halted her forward movement with a squeak of her soles against the lino.

“Yep?” she asked, hanging into Judy’s office by the doorframe of the permanently open door.

“Turns out you missed something when you packed up. It’s in your room,” she said with an amused smile.

Bea frowned. “Missed something?” She was certain that she had checked every drawer, under the bed, even on top of the wardrobe. “What is it?” she asked.

“You’ll see. I left it on the bed,” Judy replied before turning back to her monitor and resuming typing.

Bea hurried down the corridor. This was going to make her late for her appointment. What the hell could be so important to collect? She couldn’t think of a single thing that she had missed since moving in with Allie and Debbie. She flung the door open and recoiled in shock.

_“Jesus!”_

“Bloody hell, Red! Ya coulda knocked. I mighta bin naked!”

Franky lay back on what had once been Bea’s bed, hands behind her head, feet crossed at the ankle, boots dirtying the doona. She grinned hugely at Bea, apparently satisfied with the surprise she had delivered.

 _“Franky?_ What the hell ..?”

“Good to see you too …” Franky retorted, feigning hurt.

“I … I didn't know …” Bea stammered, flustered.

“Of course not,” Franky said. “I only found out myself a few days ago.” She got to her feet and held her arms out. “So, do I get a hug or what?” Bea smiled and moved forwards. “No funny business, mind,” Franky warned her. “Now you’re a fully-fledged lezzo!”

“Fuck off, Franky,” Bea told her, without malice, as she gripped her in a close embrace and hung on tight.

Happy tears needled Bea’s eyes. First her, then Doreen and now Franky. Half of the crew out of Wentworth, hopefully for good. Her mind drifted to Liz, Boomer and Maxine, still inside. One day maybe she would get to see each of _them_ in a room in Driscoll House, just like Franky, ready to start a new episode of their lives. The six of them _would_ make it. She had to believe that. They would be together again on the outside, one day.

“It’s good to see you,” she husked close to Franky’s ear, swallowing the tide of emotion as best she could. Franky hugged her back and even rocked her a little, and Bea could sense that she had put aside her habitual smart-aleck sensibility and even softened her tough, tattooed hide to make the most of this moment of reunion.

Franky slapped her on the back and drew away with glittering eyes. “I can’t believe they gave me your old room, complete with all the holes left from your pinups. Speaking of which, how is Blondie?” she asked remorselessly. “Has this mattress seen plenty of action?” she asked, bending over to test the springs with one hand.

Bea rolled her eyes. “Fuck off, Franky,” she said again, annoyed with the blush that she could feel creeping up her face. Franky laughed.

“Never mind. I’ll soon put it through its paces,” Franky replied with a wink.

“How is everyone? I want to hear all about everything …” Bea began.

“They’re okay,” Franky said. “Boomer was in a right state …”

“I’m sorry Franky,” Bea interrupted, feeling frantic. “But I can't actually stay to hear it now! I’ve gotta go. Appointment … I still have to keep them or violate my parole. Can you come for dinner tonight?" she pleaded. "We can do a full catch up …”

“Sorry Red. Got a hot date tonight,” Franky said with a leer.

 _“Seriously?”_ Bea asked. Sudden understanding bloomed and she nodded knowingly. “How about tomorrow then?” Franky looked undecided. “You can bring the good doctor, too,” Bea told her, with an eye roll. _“If_ the two of you will be able to keep it decent for a couple of hours …” Franky puffed out her cheeks, pretending to be doubtful of the likeliness that she had such restraint.

 _“Fine._ I’ll ask Gidge,” she finally allowed.

“Got a phone yet?” Bea asked. Franky shook her head. “Well, when you do, Doctor Westfall has my number …”

“For fuck’s sake, Red, call her Bridget, would ya?” Franky asked in exasperation.

If the psychologist was going to become part of the family, which Bea suspected she was, she supposed they would have to find some way to negotiate the boundaries between professional and personal in a way that kept everyone’s dignity intact.

Bea sighed. “I’ll try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading everyone. As always, I'd be interested in your comments and opinions. So leave a comment if you have time. Stay safe, Hitch ❤


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